


Lux et veritas

by CalmSpirited



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: College AU, Demonic Possession, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Illness, Recreational Drug Use, Suicide Attempt, Tag as I Go Along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 91,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmSpirited/pseuds/CalmSpirited
Summary: Jake just wants to get through college for the degree to show his old man up. It'll be the most boring four years of his life, but if that's what it takes, he'll do it.Dwight Fairfield throws a wrench in that generator as soon as he steps on the scene, and suddenly, the next four years are not as dull and boring as Jake thought they would.





	1. Pizza Pasta, put it in a Box

College sucks _ ass _ , Jake thinks, as his first year is quickly approaching its winter break at Yale university in the cold climate of Connecticut. He had always been cold natured, but the bitter, biting wind and early snowfalls are just pure  _ torture _ to him. Schoolwork could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but the winter here was constantly making him feel like a Popsicle, and given that it was only the end of November made Jake dread the upcoming months.

He thought maybe it wouldn’t be that much colder than Virginia, but _boy_ he was wrong. At least his brother let him borrow all of his heavy jackets, the elder Park being very hot-natured by contrast. It was worth the smirk on his brother’s face with a snarky _I told you_ _so _still ringing in his head weeks later when he came knocking on his door one cold October more begging for a heavy coat.

Edward had said his closet was open to Jake, and Jake laughs now thinking back to the time he stole  _ every single one _ of his brother’s jackets and received a knock on his own dorm door from his sibling. 

_ “You said-” _ Jake had started, unable to keep his mouth in a straight line, and his brother had just sighed and snatched the one that was hanging on a nearby chair and left without circumstance. After that, Edward specified that he was to return them when they weren’t being used, and that Jake was to leave him at least  _ one  _ at all times.  _ Don’t blame me because you weren’t specific enough. _

But now, walking through the cold wind and tugging one of his brother’s long coats around him, he can’t help but be  _ thankful _ that his brother is 6’3 and he’s only 5’8. He had quickly come to the realization that long coats were great for keeping your legs out of the crosshair of the wind. Walking as fast as he could into the foyer of his dorm building, Jake has his nose buried into his grey-spotted scarf and quietly gave thanks to the unseen person who held the door open for him, breathing a sigh of relief at the warm air that hits his cheeks. _ Thank God for the small, modern conveniences like indoor heating _ . 

It’s only 6:30, but the sun is already setting on him and Jake can’t help but hate it; hate the way the sunlight is robbed from him while he’s stuck inside a brick building that only teaches him how to be the snobbiest, rudest and richest person in the world with professors that constantly throw the newest  _ liberal _ trends at him like he’s supposed to be like a hippie at Woodstock. He’s supposed to  _ do  _ and  _ be  _ a lot of things, but he doesn’t care about most of the things he’s been told he should care about.

If he had had a choice in the matter, he wouldn’t have come here at all. He’s smart, not to toot his own horn, but he  _ is _ , both academically and when it comes to common sense, and he has better ways to spend his life than be stuck here for four years. He doesn’t want to go into business- or whatever his father sent him here for- anyways, and no amount of protesting and acting out over the years ever changed his old man’s mind about sending him here.

But his mother took him aside the moment before he finally mustered up the courage to have a full-blown argument with his father to let him know that he wasn’t going to Yale and had a short but quiet conversation with him:  _ Jakey, I know you may not like it, but please go. It will be good for your future. It will give you something to show for, give you something to fall back on. You can tear up your diploma for all I care when you’re done, but I want you to go. It’ll make you a better man. _

So he went. Jake was just  _ waiting _ to rip up his business degree that was three and a half years away, burn it to a crisp and then piss on it to put out the flames before dump the soggy ashes on his father’s CEO hard rock maple desk _ . _ God, that would be the best piss of his  _ life _ . It is weird to fantasize about taking a piss like that? Maybe, but he knows that there’s far more  _ weirder _ things to be into nowadays. 

Shaking the cold, misty drops of condensation off his fuzzy head, Jake quickly tracks towards his dorm that he shares with two other roommates, one of which he’d rather throw off the balcony and the other one he could tolerate fairly well because he reminds him of himself a little bit: reclusive, a little mopey and  _ definitely _ won’t make it past second year. 

Even though he has thick gloves on, his hands are a little stiff from the cold and he finds he has trouble getting his dorm keys out of his many pockets, taking much longer than he wanted to take to wiggle the key in the door and push it open.

The main dorm room is spacious but cozy, open  _ (he’s been watching too much HGTV lately, blame Edward)  _ but with plenty of furniture to collapse on. The kitchen and living room are open and connected; the kitchen had nice granite countertops and a lengthy island that was almost checkered in style with all the amenities a normal kitchen had. The living room was mostly gray and black: gray rug in front of the black corner sofas, gray walls with a few gray lamps and bookcases, a couple of gray loveseats and armchairs with black arm chairs and a coffee table in front of the sofas.

The first thing he notices is that there’s no loud music playing, no sound of both real and/or sex or porn playing, and that its relatively quiet. The second thing he notices that all the tables and counters are clear of beer cans and various items, and the black wooden surface of the kitchen table is actually quite shiny-looking.

The third thing he notices is Simon, his more amicable dormmate, writing down notes and typing on his laptop, not noticing Jake walk in until Jake’s had a good enough look around the dorm to deem it safe to enter.

“Oh, um, hello, Jake.” Simon squeaks out, taken off guard and voice hoarse from not talking for probably most of the day: it’s Saturday, and no classes mean limited to no social interactions, especially for Simon who lacked any family to speak to at Yale or nearby. “Are you in for the night?”

“Yeah.” Jake sighed, looking around the dorm for signs of any other person present before taking off his brother’s long coat when he sees none. “Unless Cameron shows up, then I’m leaving.”

“Oh.” Simon says again, and it’s equal parts annoying, comforting, and somewhat sad. It became clear to Jake early on after Simon told him that his parents didn’t pay attention to him much, his limited social interaction with anybody that wasn’t a nanny, babysitter or his younger sister and OCD strong enough to deter any potential relationships with anybody who wasn’t a neat freak like him that Simon wasn’t what people considered  _ friend material.  _

His coat slips off with ease, and he makes sure that his gloves are in his pocket as he takes off his undercoat, unwrapping his scarf and twirling it over his fist and walking back to his separate room to carefully put his favorite article of clothing away. He still remembers that day not too many years ago when his mother had only laughed when Jake opened a present for Christmas, a great big box with only a scarf inside of it.

By the time he came back out, Simon had closed his laptop, gathered his notes in his satchel and was slipping a coat over his arms really quick, which has Jake befuddled because it was  _ Saturday _ and had no idea where Simon would be going off to. 

Luckily, Jake doesn’t have to expend the energy to ask where he was going because Simon turns to face Jake once his brown leather suede jacket was on, and fishes through his pocket and slaps a $20 on the coffee table. “I-I have to go to Mrs. Svenderson to turn in the assignment I did- missed on Friday.” Suddenly, Jake  _ does _ remember Simon having to leave early for some sort of doctor’s appointment.

“Okay.” Jake replies with a neutral tone of voice, eyeing the money on the table. He hopes it's not a bribe of some sort. 

Simon suddenly looks shaky, almost nervous. “I- Well, since Cameron is partying with his  _ current  _ girlfriend, I thought I could order some pizza for us and we could have a night in peace. Not- not that I’m trying to like, make you  _ owe _ me money or som-anything-”

“It’s- It’s fine, Simon.” The poor man was tripping over his words, wringing his pale money-free hands together until they separated to run through his blond hair. Even though Jake’s not a  _ huge _ pizza fan, the idea of pizza reminds him that he hasn’t eaten in a while and that he would have to eat tonight or else his stomach would keep him up all night.

Jake smiles minutely in sincere gratitude, something that he finds isn’t common around here, to let Simon know he appreciates the gesture. “I suppose you’re giving me money in case the delivery person gets here before you come back?”

Simon shrugs. “I shouldn’t be that long, but yeah. You can- tell them to keep the tip, if they want, or you can keep the change. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” And with a small wave, Simon closes the door, catching it awkwardly on his foot as he leaves with a small squeak of pain.

If Simon wasn’t trying so  _ hard _ to be a neurotypical person, Jake would’ve laughed at the blunder. Instead, he just shakes his head and smiles under his breath in amusement and pity and walks over to take a seat on the sofa, slipping off his shoes and taking his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through cute cats and animal memes on Reddit to wind down from the busy week. The hassles of attending some bullshit after-hours Honors Society that  _ apparently _ he’s good enough to be in that’s just really a front for rich kids to get together and gossip about who did what drug and was Frathouse fucked best  _ really  _ wore down his already thin nerves. Jake usually just sat in the corner, oftentimes with his brother when Edward couldn't find an excuse to not be there, and, dare he say it, _ gossip _ about the people gossiping about them.

Being rich was a vicious cycle and sometimes Jake sincerely wished he wasn’t born rich. Maybe he could’ve been born into a lower-middle class family and enjoyed the fruits of his labor as he worked his way up the rungs of the ladder of the American Dream, but evidently whatever person was in charge of assigning who was being born in what circumstance got a good kick of putting Jake where he was and making him like he was.

He was tempted to plug in his earphones to listen to ambient noises but then he remembered that he was supposed to listen out for a delivery guy so Jake decided not to, sticking with scrolling through his phone and smiling at all the cats that appeared on his Reddit dash.  _ God, animals made him stupidly happy- _

The doorbell rang, breaking his silent reprieve. It more than likely wasn’t Simon since the man  _ never _ misplaced anything-

“Delivery from PizzaWhat!” rang out, muffled behind the front door that startled Jake more than he would like to admit. Taking a deep breath to steady his heart rate, Jake slipped his phone into the pockets of his light tan cargo pants and lightly tip-toed to the front door, looking through the peephole to make sure it was some sort of delivery guy before he unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal what certainly was a pizza guy that utterly bewildered Jake Park. 

“Uhhh, are you Simon?” The man asked, looking down at a thick piece of paper on the pizza box and reading the name before looking back up at Jake through thick glasses surrounded by black frames with dark brown eyes with a wide, company-policy smile that was- 

A weird feeling manifested itself inside of his brain that he couldn’t put a label on. “Uh, close enough.” Jake said, and quickly took the pizza away from the man that he stared at for much longer than he knows he’s stared at anybody for in his entire 19 years of existence. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, getting straight to the point so he wouldn’t keep having to look at the man’s wild black hair, wild enough to even rival Jake’s, that looked really  _ fucking soft- _

“$3.49” The man said as Jake reaches down into his pockets to fish out some money before he remembers that Simon left a $20 on the table, and Jake turns too fast to grab it that he bangs the pizza into the wall and it slips from his hands, falling to the floor in slow motion… only to be caught by the pizza guy with one hand. 

“Whoa!” He exclaims, holding the pizza up like he’s a professional pizza catcher. “I’m usually the clumsy one, haha.” He laughs and Jake finds it’s  _ not horrible _ . A little nasally, but a noise that quickly imprints itself into his memory without his consent. It invokes an odd feeling within him that he can’t shake.

“Here, I’ll just-” The man proves just how clumsy he is because he just  _ brushes up _ against Jake as he walks into the dorm room, placing the pizza down on the table and noticing the bill on the table while thankfully  _ not noticing _ the way Jake’s shoulders jerked away at the slight contact. He shuddered: it was more than just unexpected contact that made Jake shudder, it was almost like the touch  _ was  _ vaguely familiar but also  _ not  _ at the-

“Is this- is this the money?” The man pointed to it, and Jake found himself wordless. Sure, he didn’t speak to people he didn’t know very well unless he absolutely had to, but Jake was raised with  _ manners _ . Unfortunately, now they’re all gone and he’s just left with this weird feeling gnawing at his brain. 

So he nods because that’s the only action he remembers how to do, and the man hums in response and picks up the twenty, pockets in, and starts to pull out some various bills and change from a small satchel around his waist. It’s when the man hands Jake a ten that the college student remembers the English language and shakes his head. “Keep it.” He says, and the man raises an eyebrow.

“All of it?” He asks, as Jake realizes that the man needs to  _ leave _ because an eyebrow shouldn’t make his throat constrict like that. He hopes, for his sanity, that it’s just the pizza giving him allergies.

Jake nods. “Yeah. Have a nice evening.” And Jake watches the man smile just the smallest bit wider that Jake unconsciously  _ relished _ being caused by  _ him. _ Standing still, he watched Dwight walk back to the door while awkwardly chuckling as he slipped past Jake, brushing up against him  _ again _ on the way out which gives him another weird feeling that really starting to make him uncomfortable. Collecting the pizza cover sack that Jake hadn’t noticed was propped up against the outside door frame, Dwight turned to wave at him with a friendly “Have a nice evening yourself, sir!” and left him alone in the dorm room.

Jake cracked a lumpy and misshapen smile back at the man before he turned away completely and started walking towards the parking lot with the haste of a man with more pizzas to deliver.  _ Slamming _ the door with much more force than necessary, Jake slid down the doorframe and decisively began to  _ freak the fuck out _ .

“Oh my God.” He whispers to himself, covering his face with his hands and dropping his chin to his sternum as the events that had just happened repeated on a x2 speed playback loop. “Oh my God-  _ what the fuck was that _ ?” He hoped Simon wouldn’t come back for a while because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to enter the door with Jake’s slouched form blocking the entrance. He needed time to sort out just  _ what the actual fucking fuck _ all of that was.

_ Deep breaths, Jake, deep fucking breaths _ \- his hands were clammy, clasped together under his chin where his heart beat rapidly and he couldn’t decide if he felt good or sick. He hadn’t felt like this before, certainly never felt any of those weird feelings, and it scared him enough to immediately begin banishing the thoughts of the man from his mind. Picking himself back up from his seat with his back against the door, Jake  _ drug _ himself back to the loveseat to get himself off the floor and to have more time to calm down.

Closing his eyes in rest only replayed the pizza delivery fiasco, and Jake didn’t think he could stand even  _ thinking _ about it anymore because all it did was send all of his emotions into a flurry of perplexity. Pulling his phone back out and picking back up where he left off with cute cats, Jake forced his mind to drift away from the experience until Simon arrived not too long after Jake had resettled, when the man announced his successful delivery of his assignment and asked Jake how the pizza delivery went.

Jake thanked genetics that his olive skin didn’t show how much he blanched at the inquiry, and managed to say a simple. “Fine.” to appease Simon. The man then promptly bit into a couple of slices of pizza when Jake refused to eat any right at the moment, despite how hungry he actually was. He didn’t even want to smell the food because it would remind him.

Simon ended up eating most of the pizza, and Jake settled for a PB&J sandwich that night- but it allowed him to forget about that pizza delivery guy, and by the next morning it was just a dull thought and experience that gave him the jitters when he thought about it too long, so he didn’t.

A week passed, the month changed to December and yet another week passed, and the encounter faded away into the void of his mind where vague memories ended up to slowly rot away and die, and Jake didn’t think nor worry about it anymore.

Until God decided to shit on his parade.


	2. Inked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has its way of making Jake's problems come in a full circle. This is no exception.

_“The Pizza Debacle”_, as Jake had appropriately labeled in the back of his mind, remained in his mental trash bin where it fucking belonged until one of his business class decided to have a surprise pizza party to “celebrate” or some bullshit Jake didn’t care about- and then that pizza guy was _ back _in his life again.

The idea of pizza being served didn’t trigger anything in Jake until the saw the man _ walk _in the door, balancing several boxes of pizzas in his hands and shuffling so he didn’t trip on his own feet, which he still managed to do by tripping on the fancy tablecloth laid out on the designated _ pizza table _that most of the class snickered and chuckled at.

Except for Jake. Jake was having a fucking _stroke_ in his seat in the back right of the class, the closest seat he could’ve gotten to the man and all of the memories of last time came flooding back. The sudden surge of flashbacks overloaded his senses to the point where he stared wide-eyed instead of breathing in oxygen like a normal person and choked on literal nothingness which earned him a few side glances from his uppity classmates. Closing his eyes to block back the tears that sprung to his eyes after almost dying of asphyxiation proved to be somewhat beneficial, as it allowed him to look away from the man for a few moments to regather his cool demeanor and thoughts. 

Jake quickly discovered that he didn’t have many thoughts left, except for the vague hope that he suddenly has a genetic heart disease that decides to make an appearance and hospitalized him for a good week and a half. Or maybe straight-up kills him. Sadly, no such luck was afforded to him, and he spared a glance to see what the man was doing and Jake accidentally ended up staring into his eyes.

The man gave a small smile and wave at him and Jake had the most startling, one-word thought he had ever had in his less than twenty years of life:

_ Cute. _

And suddenly, everything made sense- or, at least, that what Jake assumes was that weird feeling that overcame him when he first saw him. The plastic coating of the pen he was holding in his hand popped, covering his hand and the desk with ink and Jake may or may not be bleeding but he doesn’t particularly care because the world just _ clicked _ into place. Jake feels stupid for not realizing that the reason why he flipped his shit the first time was because the man was _ appealing _ to him, but he quickly dashes it away with the knowledge that he’s never had a crush on _ anybody_, ever. He hated or just didn’t care about his previous classmates enough to give them a second thought our to think of them as more than acquaintances-

For a long time he thought he was like his brother, who at nearly 23 years old had never gone on a date of his own volition or hasn’t even expressed to Jake that he liked someone _ like that (hell, he doubts the man has ever even had a playboy mag)_, and if Edward liked someone _ like that_, Jake would be the first person he would go to and tell. Brothers are like that.

The ink is lukewarm as it dries into his skin, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat that spreads across his entire being as Dwight takes a few steps towards him, smile quickly turning into a displeased frown as he stops right at his desk and points down at his hands. Oddly enough, the weird feeling he was feeling all those evenings ago was back, but nowhere near as strong or overwhelming as before and it receded as Dwight's lips started moving.

“I- I think your bleeding.” Jake looks down and sees that he is in fact bleeding, dark red mixing with the black ink and he starts hoping that he could just bleed out in 3 seconds flat and never has to see this man again. Evidently, fate had different plans for him, and the man whips out a handkerchief and takes the now busted pen from Jake, and puts pressure on his wound. The simple hand touching makes Jake lightheaded to the point where he pushes his elbows painfully onto the desk to hold himself upright lest he pitch over and pass out. Or he just might be about to pass out from shock. He's going to go with that theory.

Now everybody, including the incoming professor, is staring at the two of them, and Jake is torn between feeling butterflies and feeling _ mortified _. “Are you alright, Mr. Park?” The professor, a woman with way too much makeup on to be in her late 50’s, asked with concern that Jake couldn’t tell was genuine or worry about a work-related injury affecting her paycheck.

“Ma’am, I think his pen broke or something and he’s bleeding fairly bad.” The man says, applying more pressure on the definitely bleeding wound, but Jake doesn’t even feel it. He’s staring everywhere but at people, which doesn’t leave him much options but he finds a nice statistical graph of bullshit to stare at while the professor and the man exchange a few more words before Jake is being urged to his feet and led out the classroom door.

He doesn’t say a word until he’s about halfway down the hall and the man has stopped him and starts shaking him. “Sir are-are you alright?” Jake hears the man with a slight touch of panic in his voice. “You’re not having some of kind medical emergency, are you?”

_ God, I’m just being difficult, aren’t I? _“No.” His voice cracks and Jake really hopes he _does_ have some type of medical emergency so he can go to the hospital and get away from the man with slightly chapped lips that were parted from breathing heavily, no doubt from basically carrying him down the hall like an invalid. “I just- I don’t-” Jake stutters, trying to think of something to placate the man’s worries when he finally thinks of something.

“I think I’m coming down with the flu.” He then sniffles and gives a fake cough, hoping the leftover tears in his eyes will help to convince the man that he is just sick from an illness and not just a fumbling teenager stumbling down the hall. “Haven’t been feeling well today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” The man sounded so genuine that it _ hurt _Jake’s chest. Maybe he’ll come down with consumption or pneumonia or bronchitis and it'll do Jake in. “Well- the teacher told me the nurses’ office was down the hall, so I’ll walk you there and then maybe you can go home and rest-”

“I think I can make it.” _ I need to get away from this man before he kills me. _ Jake pushes himself away from the man, his feet a bit unsteady and his hand is now starting to throb painfully, but he starts walking on his own away from the man. “Well…” The man trails off behind him, Jake catching a somewhat disappointed look crossing the man's face when he makes the mistake of turning around to look at him, but then his face recovers into a barely perceptible smile that almost sends Jake through the _ floor _.

“I want to make sure you get there, though. I’ll, umm, just walk there and… then I’ll be on my way, haha.” The man pauses midway, as if suddenly unsure of his own actions, and chuckles nervously. _ I need a sinkhole, please! Take me to China or Africa, I don't care-_

The walk to the nurses’ office is the longest fucking walk of Jake’s life, but at least it gives him time to contemplate his situation, i.e. why in the fuck did he find a pizza guy _ cute _ when he didn’t even know his name- God, Jake knows if he knows his name that it’ll just make the whole situation worse by several degrees, so Jake goes against his upbringing and doesn’t say anything. No _ thank yous _ or politely asking for his _ name _-

But the absolute _bastard_ offers it up anyways. “Well, uhh, since we keep seeing each other around-” _ It’s been twice _ “- I should introduce myself.” _ Oh no no no no- _

“My name is Dwight. Dwight Fairfield.” Jake almost laughs despite his mental space bursting into flames because _ who names their kid Dwight? _

Dwight goes silent after that except for the sounds of their shoes scuffing the linoleum beneath them and the sounds of the approaching front office areas, and it takes a few seconds to register that Dwight is waiting for him to answer.

“Jake.”

Dwight cocks his head, and Jake pressed the handkerchief so hard into his hand his bones popped. “Just Jake?”

“Park.” Jake spoke bluntly, forgetting to string his first _ and _last name together like an imbecile, leaving Dwight to put together the simple clues.

“So… Jake Park, then? Sounds simple enough.” The college student had been so lost in staring at his hand and not Dwight that he walks past the nurses’ office. A hand tugging his freshly-pressed button up sleeve nearly topples him over and brings him back into focus, staring at the door of the nurses’ office which Dwight oh so generously pushes open for him. Jake feels a pang of very unwanted sadness when Dwight doesn’t follow him in, instead giving him another small wave and backing back out the door with a “Hope you feel better soon, Jake!” that, for the first time in his life, leaves him feeling weak in the knees.

Hopefully... maybe he _ is _ getting sick, or at least, he manages to convince the nurse that he was so sick that he accidentally managed to crush a pen in his hand, thus, that’s why his hand is bleeding. She even takes him temperature and declares that he is _ “burning up” _, telling him to go back to his dorm for the rest of the day to get some rest and to drink plenty of fluids after patching up his hand with a large sterile pad, saying that he was lucky that it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches.

But Jake doesn’t go back to his room. Instead he walks out to the front part of the university, digging his phone out of his pocket with his good hand and plops down on a bench with his personal belonging that the nurse had someone fetch for him when she had decided that he was too sick to go back to class. It's really cold outside, but for once it doesn't bother Jake too bad since he feels like he's been set on fire with a flurry of confusion emotions and feelings.

He quickly dials his brother’s phone number, knowing that right now he has a free period and is probably at some sort of fancy-schamcy upscale coffee shop enjoying a coffee and bagel while he does some stupid-ass project and breaths a sigh of relief when Edward picks up.

“Jake, what is it?” The younger grimaces at the worry in his brother's voice, knowing that it probably scared him quite a bit since Jake _ never _called at this time. Also, the cut in his hand was starting to hurt pretty fucking bad and he just wanted to pop some pills and sleep this off.

“Edward, come pick me up.” _ I’m scared- _He tries to speak normally, but his voice is just a hint unsteady that his brother instantly picks up on over the phone and goes into what Jake calls _“God-help-me-if-someone-hurt-you”_ mode. It would’ve been funny if Jake’s head wasn’t spinning from pain, blood loss and his first crush ever.

“Jake, is something wrong-?”

“Let’s just say I’m sick.” Jake says, fake-coughing _obviously_ _enough_ for Edward to catch on just in case anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. Nobody should be, but you never know around rich people. “And I cut my hand.”

“You’re _ sick _ and you cut your- okay, okay. “ He hears Edward physically get over something and shuffle things around. “ _ God damn- _okay, where are you at?”

“Outside.” He bites his lip when he accidentally presses down too hand on his hand with his nails, drawing more blood.

If he wasn’t in distress, he would’ve laughed at his brother’s depressed sigh. “Where outside? Outside a hospital-”

At least it was cold enough enough to cool off the waves of heat he had been emitting earlier. Now the bitter cold of December was really starting to freeze his joints up, and if Edward didn't get here soon, he would have a brother encased in ice. “Outside Yale. Building Beta I’m on a bench right out front.”

“Okay, just stay there. You know where Mariette’s Coffee Parlour is?”

_ This fucker is at the- _“Yeah?”

_ "_I’m there. I’ll leave right now and be there within a few minutes. Stay out front, alright?”

It was humorous how fast his brother could go from _ cold businessman _to caring brother. Jake was just glad he was the brother in this equation. “Okay, thanks. See ya.”

“Bye.” The line hung up before Jake could hit the red button, leaving him with just the blinking message of _ “call ended” ,_ wild hormones and screaming pain receptors. At least the time it would take for Edward to get here would give him a few moments to gather his thoughts and think of what to say.

Talking to his brother about relationship advice would be like asking a brick wall how to do open heart surgery, much less-

_ Oh my God Dwight is A GUY! _ The realization dawns on his like getting hit with a fuckton of bricks that Dwight Fairfield is a _ man _ and he’s a _ man _ and that _ probably _ means he’s _ gay. _He's not gay... is he? Has he ever liked men before- or anyone for that matter? Sure, he's found some men and women _good-looking _before, but never like, attractive or good looking enough to consider a relationship with. All the thoughts questioning his sexuality swirl in his head until his temples ache, and Jake lets out a sigh of throbbing pain and stops thinking for a few moments to put himself together.

_ What the fuck is my life, Jesus H. Christ. _


	3. Reeses Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filler bc dwight deserves a break ig

Jake had never understood why people _ crave _to drive lavish, foreign cars- it seemed to him that it was every person’s dream to drive a car that cost more than what the average American makes in a year, more than what the average American could save up for in 20 years.

But yet, when his brother’s Rolls-Royce Dawn purrs up to the curb within minutes of Jake making his phone call, he feels like sobbing in relief and jumps in without a word, thankful that Edward had an essentially soundproof car so nobody could hear what he was about to say.

Jake had forgotten about his hand for a minute until he grips the door handle as he pulls it shut, and hisses in pain as he feels the wound gush more blood that now starts to bleed through the large band-aid covering his palm.

“Jake.” He brother says as soon as he gets in, reaching for his injured hand but not quite grabbing it. “How did _ that _happen?” He asked, with restraint, as if he was a moment away from running somebody over with his $300,000 car which Jake can’t ever imagine him doing. He's all bark and no bite.

He shrugged, trying to play off the burning, throbbing pain that was racing its way up his arm and settling in his shoulder. “The pen in my hand spontaneously shattered and cut my palm. I’m fine.”

Edward stared at him. Through him. Jake knew he didn’t believe him, especially with the little _ “huh” _noise he made as he took the car out of park and carefully reemerged back onto the road, taking his eyes off of Jake to check all of his rear view mirrors and alarms before accelerating to the campus speed limit.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” He asked, rare emotion that Edward usually kept hidden around strangers came out through the frown on his lips and the slanting of his eyes. His brother was a big of a germaphobe as he was, so him willingly offering to take him to a _ hospital _was a big display of his concern of injury.

Looking down at the band-aid, Jake had the brief thought that he probably should go get it checked out, but if that meant he had to actually go _ inside _ a hospital, he’ll pass. “No, I think it’s fine.” _ Fine _ and _ okay _ were quickly becoming the only two words he could utter to describe how currently _ fucked up _ he was, and Jake was beginning to hate the sound of himself saying it like an annoying tick.

Oh, he wished he was flexible enough to shove his own foot into his mouth. “I doubt the nurse would dismiss you from the rest of class for the day if it was just a little cut-”

“I said I’m _ fine_, Edward.” Jake said, more snippy than he had meant it, and his brother swiveled his head around to glare at him. “Then _ what is wrong, Jake?” _Edward asked, and his throat dropped into his stomach as he wracked his brain for an answer. 

When he failed to say anything, Edward turned back to the road to drive with a stern look on his face and began to talk like he was Sherlock _fucking_ Holmes trying to solve a murder mystery. “You cut your hand, you go to the nurses’, you feign being sick- and I know what a fake cough sounds like-, you managed to convince her to let you out of class for the rest of the day while also _ not _ convincing her that you need to go to the hospital, then you call me to come get you. So what is _ so bad _that you wanted to get out of class and let me drive you around ‘til the cows come home?”

Jake grimaced. “Nothing important.”

“Jesus fucki- _ Jake _, I’m not playing 21 questions with you, you either tell me what’s wrong or I’m taking you back-”

Frustration reaching a simmering point within his head, Jake threw his hands up into the air, groaning in irritation at his brother’s dogged determination to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. Jake equal parts hates him and loves him for it. _ That’s what brothers are for, I suppose. _ “Okay! Okay.” Jake breathes out heavily. “Okay. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

Edward jerked his head. “We have all day, Jake. Or until I run out of gas, whichever comes first.”

The younger of the two exhaled roughly, running his good hand through his wild hair and exhaling sharply through his nose. He wonders at which part of the story he can make Edward regret picking him up; when he _ hurt _ himself because he has a _ crush _ on a _ pizza delivery man. _

“I.” He started, then stopped because _ fuck the English language _ . “I… hurt myself because… _ ihaveacrushonesomeone. _” He said in a rush. He felt the car decelerate slightly and saw Edward turned back to face him out of the corner of his eye.

“Come again?” He said slowly.

“I like someone, okay! Or at least, I think I do.” Jake exclaimed, cheeks burning in embarrassment and refusing to look at the driver. His brother had an incredulous look spreading across the expanse of his face.

“You hurt yourself because you _ like _ someone?” _ God, that sounds wrong- _Jake quickly shook his head hair flying from where he had been continuously moving it back behind his ears to poke painfully into his eyes.

“No, no, no, no, no, not like that. I- I didn’t do it on purpose. Just… they showed up when I _ really _didn’t expect it and… I gripped my pen so hard it busted and cut me.” _Damn_, he sounds so pathetic that it caused his chest to ache in shame, and Jake resigns to looking out the window at the cityscape going by at the steady speed of 35mph so he doesn’t have to look at his brother.

He hears Edward scoff beside him. “Is that it?” The elder brother asked, and Jake starts feeling incredibly stupid.

“Yeah.”

"That sounds ridiculous."

Jake smiles despite himself, burying his face in the window. "Yeah, it was."

Edward is silent for several more city blocks, until he has to crawl to a stop for a stoplight. “If you're asking me for advice, you know you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I’m not.” He replied quietly, but Edward either honestly doesn’t hear him or keeps talking over him to drive his point home. The next few lights ahead of them are green but traffic is heavy now, reducing then to a 25mph crawl.

“I’m nothing to suggest asking Father for advice because I want to spare you the long talk he’s going to grind into your skull about family responsibilities and such, but Mom would surely-”

_ And tell her I might be gay? _ Absolutely not. “I… I don’t want to- I _ can’t _talk to Mom.”

His brother’s eyes narrow to the point where his pupils are barely visible. “And, pray tell, why not?”

“Because I just _ can’t _.”

“Jake.” Edward starts with that _ stern _ tone of voice again, like he’s talking to a small child caught with a hand down the cookie jar. “You know your Mom’s _ baby._” Edward curls out of his lip, and Jake wonders if he’s jealous. “You could burn down our family mansion _ on purpose _and she would still love you unconditionally. I’m sure you ca-”

Something in Jake’s chest swells painfully, and he over talks his brother. “It’s a pizza delivery guy, alright?”

“_What_?”

“The person I like is pizza delivery guy.”

Silence fills the cabin of the car. The stoplights are still green, but they’re going so slow that they would probably turn red before they can get past the most congested parts of New Haven. Edward inhales sharply but softly, just audible to Jake’s ears. “Well, it could be worse I suppose. Have you talked to her?”

Jake’s brows furrow. “Who’s _ her?” _

A confused look takes over Edward’s face. “_ Her? _ The pizza deliverer?” He questions, like Jake is purposefully tricking- _ Oh. _

His voice is quiet, even for _ him. _ “It’s… It’s not a _ her. _ I said it’s a pizza delivery _ guy. _”

The stoplight turns yellow, but Edward slams on the brakes right at the white line painted across the road, much to the chagrin of all the driver’s behind them, blowing their horns angrily. Jake purposefully turns away from his brother, staring at a random shop in the long line of connected brick buildings, but a hand on his arm forces him to turn back to face his brother, who has a look of _ absolute _shock on his face, eyes wide and mouth open slightly.

If he hadn’t been so focused on not looking Edward in the eye, he might’ve taken a picture of his face so he could look at it on a future, happier time and laugh his balls off at it. 

“Did you just say it’s a _ he _?” His brother was whispering, like someone would hear then, and that bothers Jake in an indescribable way.

Jake swallows, and nods. “Yeah.” It feels as if all of the air had been vacuumed-sucked out of the car, and Jake finds it hard to breathe. Not that he _ wanted _oxygen, anyways.

More unbearable silence followed Jake admission. “Okay.” Edward clears his throat, and gently lets go of the brakes as the light turns green once again. “Okay, I see why you feel like you can’t go to Mom and Dad- _ especially _Father. He would probably have a heart attack if you told him that... you liked a man.”

_Actually, you don't know how appeasing that sounds, dear brother. _“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know where else to turn to.” He shouldn’t be apologizing; Jake knows, deep down, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but now he’s made Edward _ visibly distressed _ and now he can’t help but feel bad. It takes a lot to frazzle his brother, and he’s hit the nail on the head this time.

“It’s okay, Jake.” Jake can hear his brother breathe out through his smaller nose _ (he was always kinda salty that the upper bridge of his nose was so wide while his brother’s was considerably more smaller and attractive)_, and slams his hand against the leather wheel that by itself probably cost a month’s rent to a poor person in the projects.

“I…” Edward starts, but stops when Jake sees that he’s struggling to say something helpful, just like a big brother should. “I don’t know what to tell you. Are you…?”

He answered the unspoken question with a shrug and a sigh. “I don’t know.” He honestly _ doesn’t, _ and that is what is perplexing him so badly. “I don’t know if I’m gay, I don’t know if the pizza guy is gay- hell, _ you _could be gay-”

Edward shook his head a bit too forcefully to be a simple dismissal, but Jake chose not to call him out on it. “I’m _ not _gay, Jake.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been interested in anybody.”

“Because- look, this isn’t about me, this is about _ you_, and whatever the hell you’re going to do. Have you even spoke to the man?”

“Uhhh-”

“Wait, back up: how did you meet him?” And _ that _ simple question led to the whole spiel of his roommate ordering pizza then leaving him to take care of paying the delivery _ (with his roommates money, he specified)_, and telling his brother that was the _ first _ time he had met him, had forgotten about it and erased the man from his memory and that was _ okay _ , until today when he showed up to deliver pizza for their class today as a celebration for some _ bullshit _ he doesn’t even remember now-

“I just… I don’t know what’s _ wrong _ with me. I don’t know why this particular guy just… _ does it _ for me, I guess.” Jake concluded, burying his face in his hands as the final words leave his lips before his chest heaves in a dry laugh. He leaves out feeling the weird emotions the first time on purpose. “And it has to be a _ guy_, of all things.”

His brother has yet to speak throughout Jake’s whole depiction of his series of events, and Jake finds the silence is starting to _ not _be his best friend anymore.

“It could be worse.” Edward slowly mutters under his breath, and Jake misses most of what he says. “What?”

His brother sighs in irritation. “It could be worse.” He said, and Jake’s face scrunched up in indigence.

“What do you mean ‘it could be worse’?” _ There goes his brother, looking down upon the blue-collar class again like the asshole he is- _

“He could be working at Starbucks.”

Jake just fucking _ stared _ at Edward, like he couldn’t just _ believe _ what he just told him, like it was the most insulting thing he could’ve said to him_, ever like he’s having a fucking crisis and he goes and says _ ** _that_ ** _ \- _

He nodded his head twice. “All right.” That was fair. Anybody who wasn’t a white bitches wet dream working at Starbucks had to be too mentally unstable for Jake, anyways.

Jake chuckles at that thought, even though it was a horrible one, and his brother laughs in response. Jake laughs in response to his brother’s laughter. Edward laughs at him laughing at his laughter, tears starting to pearl at the corners of his eyes.

They stop at another red stoplight and laugh so hard they nearly miss the light turning green and have 20 cars blowing their horns behind them while they’re both in stitches over something neither of them can vocalize because they’re busy trying to breathe and not piss themselves. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Edward gets a hold of himself first, lifting his shades up and wiping his eyes so he could drive clearly and safely, clearing his throat and choking down a chuckle. “Jake- Jake, I want to help you-”

“I- _ haha- _I know.” Jake replied, wiping his eyes with his bad hand on accident and hissing at the pain of movement. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no, Jake. It’s just…”

“Have you ever _ liked _ anybody, ever?” Jake asks earnestly. “Like, _ like like _enough to date?”

His brother is silent for a moment too long to be thinking of a lie to tell him; like he’s actually thinking. “No.” He says after a moment, looking thoughtful and pursing his lips in a way Jake knows he’s thinking about something deep and soulful, or some shit like that. “No, I haven’t.”

“That’s alright.” The younger of the two says, holding a hand up to stop his brother from accidentally becoming depressed. “That’s alright-”

“I know.” Edward says, putting on his blinker and turning down the street where Jake knew Edward lived in a $1,500 a month, 3rd floor apartment that was too ostentatious for Jake’s taste but Edward had a _ way _more comfortable furniture than the dorm and offered a lot more peace and quiet than his roommates did, so Jake sometimes found himself hanging out in his brother’s apartment.

Plus, it was filled with snobby rich people that assumed he was Edward’s personal assistant rather than his actual brother, and that was a huge reason why he didn't just move there. Well… _ that _ and despite how friendly and amicable he and his brother could be, they got into a literal _ fistfight _almost a month ago over who got the last Reese's Cups left over from Halloween. Jake hadn’t been back since.

“We’re hanging out here today?” Jake asked when he really meant _ round two, motherfucker? _

Edward grinned, sharp and predatory like a bristling wolf. “If you want to. Or I can take you back to your dorm.” Which really meant _ I will kick your ass again, you little rat bastard. _

Jake grinned right back, stretching from ear to ear. “Only if you have some more Reese's Cups.”


	4. Arrhythmia

As much as Jake wouldn’t want to admit it, spending a few hours hanging out at his brother’s did help some with clearing his mind and figuring out just _ what the actual fucking fuck he was going to do with that pizza guy. _

A _ very _ sobering thought was that seeing Dwight _ again _ would be very unlikely. _ But you thought that the first time- _the traitorous thought popped into his head before he could stop it, and it made his mouth twist up into a grimace. Everybody orders pizza at college, and the PizzaWhat! uniform the man had on was one Jake noticed had been appearing more and more frequently around New Haven recently. In particular, Yale students have been on a pizza binge lately. Every time he goes out into the hall it seems that there's some pizza person knocking on doors.

He could tell himself that he would probably never see him again, but with the way Yale students evidently had a pizza fetish, that was increasingly unlikely not the case. So, if Jake was to eventually see the man again _ (and apparently the man was friendly enough that if he saw him again he could want to speak to him and- God forbid- check up on him) _, he then decided to focus on what he should do if that encounter should ever come to fruition.

And that’s when he realized that he had absolutely no idea on how to deal with that type of situation. Or, at least, without embarrassing himself beyond saving like he did today. God, he hoped that Dwight wasn’t paying attention enough to notice that Jake had been staring at him as he crushed the pen in his hand, otherwise his little _ problem _would be all too noticeable. Or any of his classmates, for that matter.

Not that he cared what they think, honestly. He just didn’t want to become the butt of all jokes as the man who had a thing for pizza guys. Jake would _ really _ drop-out of college if that happened. _ Well, if I dropped out I could go work at PizzaWhat!- _

Okay.

Okay.

He really has a fucking problem, huh. Why was that his train of thought? Of working along with the man with soft and wide brown eyes that screamed nervousness and friendliness in one breath that made his heart jerk painfully in his chest-

“Jake!”

He twisted around with a gasp of surprise when his brother called his name from where he stood in the living room doorway, tilting his head back so he could see over the top of the sofa he was currently stretched out on.

“Jake- didn’t you hear me calling you?” He asked, corner of his lips turned downwards in annoyance of being ignored.

“No-” Jake cleared his throat, willing for his thoughts to clear and for his heart to calm. -no, sorry, I didn’t hear. What do you want?”

“I asked if you wanted to go home. It’s getting late, and traffic is _ horrible _after 6, you know.” Listening to his brother talk, Jake pulled his phone out from where it had slipped underneath his leg and saw that it was nearly 5:30, and that he really didn’t feel like fighting the New Haven 6 o’clock rush.

Clearing his throat again, Jake groaned as his joints popped when he stood up from the comfortable couch. _ God, he was getting so fucking old already. _“Yeah.” He pocketed his phone and whirled around for his belongings, slipping his coat on and picking up his bag in one fluid motion. “You ready to go?” Brushing his hair out of his face, Jake turned back to see Edward pulling a long coat over his arms and jingling his car keys, pushing past him for the front door.

“Let’s get the lovestruck boy home. “ His brother teased. “Maybe there’s some leftover pizza waiting for you.” Jake _ swore _ under his breath that if the front door hadn’t already been open, there would have most certainly been a part two of last months’ fistfight, _ and he would’ve won again, motherfucker! _

The ride back to Jake’s dorm felt much longer than it actually was, Jake feeling hyper vigilant for some reason that he’d rather not give a label to because he felt that he was on the lookout for _ something- he wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction of a name. _

It’s not long before his brothers’ car pulled back to where it had all began several hours ago, the distinct sound of the gears being shifted and the doors automatically unlocking brought Jake out of his mental reprieve. He suddenly found himself really wishing he had taken up on his brother’s unspoken offer of staying the night just so he could avoid having to potentially face anybody who dared to ask him questions about the incident earlier.

Despite his stubborn pridefulness, Jake really does considers asking his brother to take him back, but Edward speaks first. “Alright, have a good night, Jakey.” Jake pulls a face in response to the nickname, now extremely grateful he didn’t ask to go back.

_ Wanna start, asshole? _ Jake _ pretends _that he is just going rolls his eyes as a response, but as he grabs his bags and opens his door, he replies

“You too, Ed!” He doesn’t look back as he darts for the main entrance, but he hears his brother calling out to him and reaching out to grab his jacket, but it slips through his brother’s long fingers as the door slams shut in his face. Cradling his bandaged hand to his chest, Jake doesn’t stop his brisk jog to the main doors until the inside heat blasted his face and blew his hair out of his eyes and burned the ever-loving _ shit _out of them. The man blinked rapidly to re-moisturize them, but the burn still persisted long enough to make it look like he was giving everyone the stink eye as he made his way to his dorm.

Ah well, at least nobody dared to ask him questions, so stinging eyes was a small price to pay.

But burning eyes or no, it didn’t stop Jake from being _ paranoid _ about seeing the man who had been giving him so much trouble lately, looking down every corridor of dorms before he crossed them just in case he needed to be super stealthy and slink away. Everybody standing outside in the hallways did not go unnoticed by him as he scanned every single person to make sure it wasn’t _ him_, and Jake kept looking all the way up until he jingled his keys into his lock and swiftly stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

And then _ scowled_. 

There were beer bottles and soda cans _ everywhere _ paired with red solo cups stacked and spilled liquids everywhere- and the smell of Jake assumes is cough syrup or some sort of, like, children’s medicine fills the air. His eyes landed on the nice black table in the middle of the room, and finds a small bag of Jolly Ranchers on the edge and drenched in purple liquids. 

There's also the _ good _ metal spoons lying about, shining with stickiness and that just pisses Jake off the most. Most of them were _ his _ spoons, and he had to wash them _ personally_, and…

And Jesus H. Christ, it’s not the first time he’s seen his other less-appeasing roommate Cameron strung out on the couch, passed out in some state of undress with a girl _ (girls this time, plural)_, one girl with her face buried in his neck and the other one-

Jake had to visibly restrain from throwing up and closed his eyes as he went back to his room to _ not see _ the girl with her face literally in Cameron’s ballsack and dried spit and come painted across her cheeks and forehead. _ God, and on the couch, too. At least it’s vinyl. _

By the time Jake opens his eyes again, he’s got his good hand on his doorknob and praying there’s not lesbians passed out naked on his bed again when a small _ “psst” _! to his left catches him off guard and he jumps a little with a loud gasp.

“Oh- sorry! S-sorry, Jake.” Simon whispered-yelled, carefully coming out of his room and pulling the door shut with a soft _ click! _ behind him. “Are they asleep?”

“Who?” Jake asks like a dumbass before he realizes there’s really only one person he could be talking about. “Oh. Yeah, they’re-they’re passed out on the couch. Have you been-” He starts, but Simon starts up again. “They didn’t go in your room. I- they wan-wanted to, but I, uhh, I put my foot down.” And then Jake is beholden to the strange and unforeseen sight of Simon _ smiling _and looking actually proud for once.

If Jake had one, he would’ve given Simon a fucking Nobel Peace Prize just for that look of triumphant on his thin face. Jake, once again, was shocked. “Wow. You actually did that?”

“Yeah.” Simon grinned. “I mean, uh… my-my therapist says I need to be more… assertive, so I tried this time. Couldn’t stop them from getting… frisky on the sofa, though. Or drinking lean.”

“It’s alright, man.I’m just glad they didn’t wind up in our rooms.” Jake waved a dismissive hand at Simon before turning around, good hand on the doorknob and twisting it so the door popped open.

But then he stopped, and turned his head back towards Simon. “They were drinking _ what? _” 

“Lean.” Simon said again, like it was something completely normal. Jake didn’t respond. “Purple drank.” Simon said again, and this time Jake let go of the doorknob to give his roommate a very confused look, head tilting to the side. “Sizzurp?” Simon more asked than stated, and his shoulders sagged when Jake just kept _ looking _at him.

“It’s cough syrup mixed with soda and hard candy. Drugs, Jake. They’re drinking drugs.”

“Ah.” Jake, due to his more _ privileged _ upbringing, was really unfamiliar with drugs of any kind, especially with the street slang of them, and he couldn’t help the weird feeling he got when Simon just threw those terms at him like he was raised in the ghetto or something. Jake turned back to grip his doorknob and pushed the door the rest of the way open, stepping over his threshold with the sole intention of flopping down on his bed and sleeping for a good twelve hours-

Then he realized just what Simon said, and whirled around like a madman. “Drugs?!”

He may have yelled a bit too loud, because Simon quickly shushed him and took a step closer to him to whisper “Keep your voice down! They may- they might be passed out after drinking lean, but- but it doesn’t put you in a coma!”

“Drugs!?” Jake repeated, now much quieter and more mindful of the slutty trio passed out on the couch. “Simon- what if one of the Prefects sees it? You’ll get in trouble!” He knows the _ you’ll _ didn’t go unnoticed by Simon- at this point, Jake wouldn’t mind getting kicked out of Yale just to get away from _ everything_. But for Simon- this was his whole future. He didn’t want to mess it up for the man.

His taller roommates eyes widen almost comically, but he made no move to clean up. In fact, a look of disgust and increased anxiety crossed over his pale features.

“I’m not going in there.” Simon said very plainly, and Jake gave him a look of incredulously. “Why not?”

“I- I heard all of the _ things _they doing out there. I don’t want to see it, Jake.”

“Simon-”

“_Do you? _Be honest.” Huffing, Jake sagged his shoulders and curled his lip as the images that greeted him resurfaced.

_ No ,thank you. God, I should’ve stayed over at Edward’s. _ “Okay, you’re right. No, I don’t want to go out there- but we can’t just leave it out.” And Jake is _ not _going to clean the sofa or going anywhere near it for that matter. He didn't care who got in trouble for it but that was an STD he was _not _going to get.

“You- you think we can just… not look at them?” Simon suggested, twiddling his thumbs in a manner that was slowly driving Jake to the brink of madness with how repetitive it was. If he was a touchy person, he would’ve grabbed Simon’s hands to make him stop.

Instead, Jake just gave the part of the living room that he could see a forlorn look that spoke volumes of just how _much_ he didn’t want to go in there. “I mean, yeah, but I don’t want to, y’know, accidentally _ wake them up. _”

Pursing his lips, Jake watched as Simon _ finally _stopped fiddling with his thumbs and gently clasped his hands together, eyebrows knitting together until they relax with his sudden inspiration. “We could throw a blanket over them.”

Huh. Not a bad idea. “Yeah.” Jake agrees, nodding with a soft smile. “Maybe we can smother them at the same time. Pull it off as an accident.” 

Simon’s face dropped instantly, horror dawning on his features as Jake’s jest sunk in. “Well, I-I didn’t mean it-_ like that _, I was just-just-”

_ Sigh _“Simon.”

“Yes?”

“I’m joking.”

“Oh.” And the man had the nerve to appear _ relieved_, like Jake’s an actual _ dumbass _ who will tell someone that’s he’s going to kill someone and make it look like an accident. _ Duh _ , if you’re going to kill someone you don’t tell someone about it, especially someone compulsion-driven like Simon. “_Oh. _ Uh, sorry, Jake. Ahahaha. It’s- it’s tempting, though.”

“It sure fucking is.” Jake muttered under his breath. “You got a spare blanket?”

Simon made another perturbed face. “I’m not using any of my blankets. God, that’s disgusting.”

“What the fuck- I’m not using any of mine!” Jake countered, and realized that since there was no way he was going to be using any of his and Simon would literally die if he used his, that plan couldn’t go an-

“Wait!” Before Jake could wait, Simon had quietly darted off to the linen closet behind him, and yanked out one of the white dorm towels provided by Yale for _ “bathroom purposes”. _Jake is happy to say he had never used a single one. “We can- can just throw this over the, ummm… necessities.”

Jake nodded, turning back to his room to put his stuff down and carefully squirm out of his coat before helping Simon, who had thankfully, by that point, threw the towel over Cameron’s crotch and the girl in his laps’ face, giving them both enough decency to start on the biggest concentration of mess, which was on the black table.

Now more aware of just what all the stains were, Jake’s nose wrinkled at the sticky sweet Mountain Dew-ish odor that was almost too strong to bear. “I thought that was cough syrup I smelled.”

“Robitussin, Mountain Dew with a splash of Pepsi, cheap beers, several different flavors of melted Jolly Ranchers and some Pixy Stixs.” Simon pointed to every single item he listed strewn across the tables, counter and even the floor. 

Jake _ really fucking hopes _that the white power on the floor is indeed Pixy Stixs or else he’s in deep fucking trouble. “I guess this is all for… whatever kinda concoction you called it earlier.”

“Lean is the best term for it- w-well, my favorite term. Easiest to remember.” Simon had already grabbed up several solo cups strewn across the table and thrown them away after washing out the different colored liquids in them out in the sink. “Although, the beers and Pixy Stixs aren’t- aren’t usually included, but I guess even while hi-drugged out, you get creative.” _ Simon is an odd person, _Jake muses to himself as he walks over to grab several paper towels off the roll and wets them before mopping up the counter.

He stutters, which is aggravating to an extent but Jake isn’t too bothered because he’s heard worse and Simon can’t help it, he’s a pushover- or, easy to push _ by, _ is more accurate. He’s OCD to the point where Jake’s seen Simon rearranging his stuff even when he’s told him not to and has odd little ticks that sometimes gets on his nerves enough that _ he’s _ the one that needs therapy, not Simon. But- and this is what really makes Simon tolerable- he isn’t _ desperate _for friends or to be popular or to be in the “in” crowd. Jake respects that: Simon is here to get a degree and go on with his life.

Jake hates that he’s a bit envious of that; he scrubs the counter harder than necessary with his injured hand, which he realises that he had been using when he really shouldn’t have and hisses in pain when he looks at his bandage and sees a splotch of bright red spreading across the white fabric. Motherfucker, he’s a sorry looking sight, isn’t he?

Simon, apparently, thinks he is, too, or else is extremely observant _ (he actually is) _, because he is suddenly beside him, gingerly taking his injured hand in his and inspecting it. “When did you d-do this, Jake?” He asks, too curious and innocent to be mocking and for Jake to lie to. So he shrugs, and says:

“I was being really fucking stupid.” Not a lie: crushing a pen in your hand because the man who you, for some ungodly reason, find attractive enough to have a crush on can make you pretty fucking dumb.

Simon hums, and lets go of his hand after deducing that Jake wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out, and uses some paper towels to wipe of the white candy powder off the counter. “Not characteristic of you.” Jake barely catches what Simon says, and if he wasn’t afraid of exactly explaining how he hurt his hand, Jake would’ve asked him to say it again.

“Thanks for noticing.” Jake mutters his thanks as he throws away the soiled paper towels and starts on the beer cans and soda bottles littered on the floor and _ recycles _ them in the _ recycling bin _ because _ the world is gonna end in 12 years if we don’t become naked hippes_-

Two things happened nearly simultaneously that interrupted his train of thought.

One: one of the girls on the couch _ (the one that had been headfirst into Cameron’s crotch) _ groaned awake and sat up, her quite sizeable tits hanging out on full display, looking around quite confused and groggy.

Two: there was a knock at the door, and Jake immediately came to the _ completely logical _conclusion that the police were at the door and his and Simon’s days were numbered.

Jake eyed the window over the other side of the cornered couch the three druggies were on; they were only on the second story, so if he jumped out he would probably be okay, right? It couldn’t be as bad as going to jail, _ right!? _ He took a big step towards the window, but apparently the girl by that point, had grabbed her purse from somewhere, pushed down her pencil skirt _ literally _just enough to cover her ass and stumbled to the door, and swung it open, tits out and crusty face and all.

Jake had always prided himself on being a very stable individual with his emotions, never losing his cool and never overreacting- but he lost his grip on _ reality _when he saw who it was on the other side of the door.

“PizzaWhat del-_ oh my- ma’am-!” _Dwight, pizza outfit and all, holding a reddish colored bag in one arm and the other one still raised in a knocking position when the girl barely made it out the door and gave Dwight an armful of tits as she made her way down the hall, getting about halfway down before trying to pull up her tube top.

Not that Jake was staring _ (for being a thot she did have nice tits) _ at her assets because that would be completely _ uncultured _. And no, he was not staring at Dwight because he was still too busy trying to find the strength in his legs to propel himself out of the window at a high rate of speed.

It seemed to be missing at the moment, and Jake finds himself staring at Simon, hoping that he’ll do something and that leads to indirectly looking at Dwight and the _ cute blush _staining his features that Jake quickly finds he can’t tear his eyes away from. 

For the few moments that they’re all staring at each other, Jake gets a good look at the messy brown hair stuffed underneath a red PizzaWhat! hat with a little pizza on it, big glasses magnifying brown doe eyes that eyes him with familiarity, a bit of baby fat still adorning his chubby cheeks, and pretty pink lips that parted to say his name, which didn’t even register until Simon turned around and asked him if he knew him.

“Y-yes.” Jake breathlessly stuttered, and Jake _ rarely _ stuttered. Simon had certainly never heard him stutter, and Jake could tell that Simon _ noticed _. 

“You doing better now?” Dwight asked, coming in when Simon stepped to the side and placing the black bag on the small end table next to the door _ (which was miraculously somehow bare of dirt and stains) _, and walked right over to him to grab his hand again, inspecting the bandage and gasping softly when he spotted the new bloodstain. “Has it stopped bleeding yet? If it hasn’t you might want to go to the doctor and get stitches-”

“No.” Jake said a bit too abruptly, yanking his hand back and hissing with pain and this _ sad puppy _look came over Dwight like he had just been kicked and Jake felt guilt immediately settle on his chest like a ton of bricks. Backtracking, Jake relaxed his hand. “I was- our roommate-” Jake gestured to the still asleep Cameron and girl on the sofa. “-had a party while I was gone today. I guess we gotta clean up now and I, uhhhh… must’ve reopened my wound.”

“Oh.” Dwight started, a shy grin coming over his face and turning back to look at his delivery still on the table. “Then I guess you, umm, didn’t order the breadsticks and brownies?” His hand went to rub at his neck, looking around awkwardly at all the occupants in the room, both awake and asleep.

Jake looked at Simon, the message on his face clear: _ I’m not paying for it. _ Not that he expected Simon to pay for it, but Jake had currently lost the ability to speak coherently because of Dwight worrying his lower lip and Simon needed to do something before the odd urge rising in his throat turned into something tangible and _ embarrassing. _

For the second time tonight, though, Simon pulled through for him, raising a finger. “Hold on.” And ran over to where Cameron was still passed out, looked over his prone form for a second, and then used two fingers to pick up his wallet, open and halfway tucked underneath his and the other girls’ leg, pulling it out and sending the open condom wrapper on it fluttering to the ground. Simon ran back to the table, slapped it down, used the two same finger to open the money slot and pulled out a $20 and laid it down on another clean spot on the table.

“Keep the change.” Was all he could utter before darting to the kitchen sink to cleanse himself of the billions of STD’s that must be crawling all over his skin now. _ What a fucking trooper _ . Made him feel kinda pathetic; Simon would be washing his hands for the next half-hour now before he got it _ “just right” _and he could’ve done it and been fine with simply pouring bleach on his hands.

He mentally promises himself that he’ll do something nice for Simon for saving his life. Dwight looks at the bill in his hand, and then looks back up at Jake. “Are you-” Dwight begins, but Jake cuts him off with a quick. “Yes.” And goes over to get the food out of the bag and hands it back to Dwight when he’s done, and then forces his hands to stick to his sides so he doesn’t do something stupid and try to touch Dwight. This leads to another very uncomfortable standoff with the delivery man that nearly destroys the rest of Jake’s nerves as he tries desperately not to look at Dwight anymore, and fails miserably.

“Well, ummm…” Dwight trails off, eyes moving between Jake and Simon, still violently scrubbing his hands at the sink a full minute later. “If that’s it, then, I’ll- I’ll be off. Uhhh-” Dwight pointed at Simon and whispered as quietly as he could. “Is he okay?”

“Um- yeah, he’s just…” Jake trails off, looking back at Simon and seeing the pale man not paying them any mind. Jake whispered back “He has some… tics.”

“Tics?” Dwight whispers back, his mouth opening to inquire further, but Jake cuts him off by clearing his throat loudly.

“You’d better get going.” Jake starts, and instantly regrets how it sounds coming out of his mouth, so he tries to recover. “It’s getting cold and dark out.”

“Oh, haha, right.” His soft nervous laughter is both infuriating and charming and Jake wants to sink right into the rumored secret Nazi bunker underneath the Yale dorms. Dwight takes his delivery bag, and gives Jake a soft smile that makes his heart lurch into his throat that’s probably a sign of arrhythmia that he probably should get checked out next time he goes for a physical.

Dwight folds the bag in two and tucks it underneath his arm, and then _ actually tips his hat to Jake _. “I guess I’ll probably see you again, yeah? This is like, what, the third time in a month or so? I’m starting to- maybe there’s something in the water?”

Dwight gives him a lopsided grin and _ I’m dead, _ Jake is convinced because his heart comes to a screeching halt, _ I’ve had a heart attack and this is Hell. I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead I’m dying I’m dyingI’mdead- _

“Bye, Jake.” Dwight replies to Jake’s eloquent response of _ Uh. _ and walks out the dorm door, closing it behind him with a soft _ click! _ that is barely audible over the sound of the kitchen faucet still running from where Simon is still washing his hands, and Jake suddenly feels bad enough to intervene.

Jake gives Simon’s shoulder a single tap. “Simon.” He doesn’t respond, but keeps washing. “Simon.” He speaks, louder this time, and Simon finally looks up at him, still going.

They both stare at each other until Jake speaks up again. “I think you’re clean enough.”

And to his surprise, Simon stops moving his hands, but keeps them under the water still and looks at Jake with an open mouth. Jake has the feeling that Simon is _ shocked _that Jake would intervene like that. But Simon still doesn’t move his hands out of the water, long enough for all the soap suds to swirl down the drain. “Simon-” Jake opens his mouth to start again, but Simon interrupts him.

“I know.” Is all he says, and slowly retracts his hands and clenched them together for a few seconds longer before reaching up to twist the handle off. He slats his hands exactly four times off into the sink before reaching for the towel hanging on the oven bar to wipe them off.

Simon makes sure that the towel is placed exactly dead center and even on both sides before his shoulders slump and gives Jake a sideways glance. “You think Cameron will clean this up?” His voice is small but there’s a hint of laughter hidden behind his pained smile that Jake ends up reciprocating. 

“I doubt he keeps his own dick clean.” Jake jokes back, and he’s being _ very _serious. He opens his mouth to make another rather crude joke when another groan from the sofa interrupts them both, and they turn to see the other girl slowly coming to.

Simon quickly moves to the table and grabs up the food, striding quickly to the front door. “It would be a crime to- to let this food go to waste.”

Jake follows wordlessly after him, and leaves the door ajar after him as he hears the girl on the sofa tumble onto the floor with an _ oww _of pain. He doesn’t ask her if she’s okay like the hungry savage he is. _ Absolutely barbaric._


	5. Apple Turnover

Jake doesn’t see Dwight again for the rest of his winter break, but at the cost of being flown back to Virginia with his brother to spend Christmas vacation- he doesn’t mind spending the holidays with his brother, and he’d always secretly enjoy any time he spends with his mother, but spending time with his father? Just makes him want to say fuck school and run away and, like, go live in the woods or something like that.

Wouldn’t be that bad, actually. Living out in the wilderness isn’t too hard as long as you’re not a dumbass. And Jake’s not a dumbass. For real, he isn’t, pinky promise.

Every second spent in his father’s presence, though, makes him wish he was back at school, as wild as that is to say. It makes him wish he could freeze to death in New Haven rather than have the lazer beams coming out of his father’s eyes burn a hole in the back of his head every time he did something even remotely  _ “un-businessman-like”. _ That is, until, he distinctly heard his mother smack his father somewhere hard enough to echo a room over and tell him to quit it or he’d drill out his son’s brains.

God, he loved his mother. He hoped she’d really like the long sweater coat he’d made for her, with sewn together patches of all the yellow, blues, reds, pink and idd colors inbetween that he doesn’t know the name of but he knows what they look like and that she likes them. Jake isn’t a fashion designer like her, but he’s watched her enough for hours growing up that he can figure out how to make clothes.

His fingers are still sore from all the cutting and patchwork, but the wide smile and light it brought to her olive-skinned features and the big hug and praise and kiss on both of his cheeks she gave him made it all worth it. By some miracle of God, it actually fit her or didn’t fall apart and looked good on her, too.

Despite having his father make little comments on his he should be more like  _ him _ , more like  _ Edward _ and take more honor courses, the little family reunion went fairly smooth, compared to family holidays in the past. Really good- he and Edward only got in one fistfight...

_ “So…”  _ Edward drawled, a small glass cup of what smelled like whiskey in his hand, which surprised Jake because Edward rarely drank to begin with and even rarer was it anything stronger than wine. Jake looks up to see his almost  _ leering  _ over him from where he was leaning on the kitchen counter with a wicked grin on his face. “Miss your boyfriend, yet?”

If Jake hadn’t been holding his phone in his dominant hand, he would’ve smacked the  _ ever-loving shit _ out of him. Instead, he squared his shoulders and growled out in now uncertain terms “Fuck off, Edward.”

“What?” He responded, acting oh-so innocent and cool that it did make Jake pocket his phone and stand straight up, ready to knock him out if he said anything else. “I’m just saying- maybe you wouldn’t be so  _ stressed out  _ if you had somebody to  _ give you a hand _ -”

Jake’s eye twitched, but he beat back his urge to slug him with a wicked grin to match his brother’s, all teeth and no regret.  _ “At least I have somebody I’m interested in.  _ You’re acting jealous because you don’t have a guy who you could even  _ think  _ about getting on with. _ ”  _

Edward gave him a look and downed the rest of his whiskey in one go. “I’m not gay-”

“I’m NoT gAy-”

Surprising him again for the second time that night, Edward shoved him hard enough for Jake to take a few stumbling steps back, and then Jake reciprocated by jumping him, knocking them both to the ground and making the glass in Edward’s hand shatter as it hit the ground when he dropped it in favor of slapping him in his face.

Neither of their parents were happy, especially their father, but Mom had taken them both aside when their father had finished lecturing them about being adults to tell them both that they were both too old to be doing this; she finished by pointing to the grey streaks and told them every time they fought like this growing up it gave her another gray hair. That made them both feel kinda bad after that, and the apologies she made them say to each other were actually heartfelt.

The day after New Years’, Jake was allowed to drive  _ (actually drive!) _ his brother’s Rolls-Royce Dawn because Edward had accidently drank too much eggnog spiked with vodka and was too busy curled up in the passenger seat with dark sunglasses on to criticize his lack of driving skills too much. Not that Jake couldn’t drive- he just really  _ enjoy  _ driving all too much.

Edward didn’t enjoy the ride, but he couldn’t complain with a massive hangover. And for once, Jake didn’t hear Edward complain  _ any  _ about the first class flight back to New Haven, nothing about the slutty flight attendants, the cheap food and drink, the uncomfortable seats and screaming children.

If it wasn’t for all of the above, it would’ve been a peaceful flight back.

The airport and security is so tumultuous and horrendous that Jake is almost  _ relieved  _ to be back at his dormitory- up until the point that he walked back in the door and found, at the very least, no Cameron, but Simon mopping the floors that looked… drawn on with markers.

Jake stops at the open doorway, dorm keys still in one hand  _ (his still slightly injured but bandageless one) _ and his trolley of luggage behind him in the other. If the trolley hadn’t been so hard to turn around, he would’ve walked back down to the lobby.

But alas, fate was never so kind to him. “Hey.” Jake says in greeting, and takes one small step inside before Simon  _ squeaks  _ at him, hand shooting out and nearly touching his chest.

“Are your shoes clean?” Simon asks, almost yelling with real  _ fear  _ in his voice of Jake walking onto the clean floor with his dirty shoes. Grimacing, Jake carefully retracted his step inside and pocketed his keys in his long coat’s pocket, and bent down to slip off his shoes and place them on the trolley behind him.

He hears Simon breathe an audible sigh in relief, and Jake feels bad for the man. “Are socks allowed?” Jake tried to joke, but Simon’s too busy mopping up more marker stains to appreciate his humor, but he hums his approval all the same. 

The slight cold dampness of the floor, freshly cleaned with some of that Swifter stuff that stinks like a hospital makes Jake’s toes curl as he pads across the tile to go straight for his room, until Simon perks up from mopping the floor compulsively:

“Your room is fine except there’s marker all over the floor and I think there’s a beer stain on the ceiling.”

Jake stops in front of his room, still wanting to see it for himself, but then sighs and walks back to the trolley to get his bags and unpack, hoping to stall the inevitable for as long as he could. Which is only, like, 30 more seconds, but still.

It’s the little things in life.

By the time he has all of his bags put into his room, slipped his shoes back on to run the trolley back downstairs and returned to his dorn, Simon had finished with the kitchen and had started on the hallway and the whole place reeked of lemon pledge.

For Simon’s sake, he took his shoes back off and left them on the carpeted half of the living area. He thought about asking his roommate if the  _ other one _ was here yet, but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer while Simon was waging an all-out war on the marker stains all over the floor, so he sighed for the upteenth time that day, slipped his phone out and flopped down on the wrap-around couch, watching animal videos to calm his nerves.

If every cute animal he watched do something absolutely stupid added years to his life, Jake would be immortal; _ maybe that would be good,  _ he thought _ , if that meant I could have pets forever. _

At some point between the mid-roll ads of the second video, Jake remembered what Cameron and those two girls had done on the sofa and almost jumped off and threw up in disgust, but them thought about the two lesbians he found partially naked on his bed that he still slept on and resigned himself to trying not to entertain the thoughts about killing 95% of the human population.

_ But that means that I could have so many fucking pets. Like, I could probably have like a million cats and dogs and birds and hamsters and be so fucking happy living in the ruins of society out in the wilderness somewhere- _

“Jake.” A breathless and weak sounding voice broke him out of his fantasy, and Jake lurched up and grabbed his phone hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Simon immediately started sputtering out apologizes, but Jake exhaled heavily through his mouth and sat up.

“Sorry- I was distracted.” He watched a roulette of emotions flicker over Simon’s face until it settled on neutral, and the man slowly lowered himself to set on the coffee table in front of the sofa. 

“Sorry.” Simon still repeated once more, suddenly looking down and fiddling with his hands in a way that reminded Jake of a child who’s about to admit they had done something naughty. He’s just hoping Simon didn’t go into his room while he was zoned out and accidentally break something.

Jake tries to wait patiently for Simon to say something, but he’s never been once for extended waiting periods. His shoulders slump and his mouth opens “Simon-”

“I’ve- I’ve been thinking.” Simon finally kicks into gear, and goes from 0 to 100 in record speed. “Jake. I’ve been… you- you remember after that pizza guy came here before break, and- and we went down to the mess hall and ate the food?”

“Yeeah~?” Jake had a  _ feeling  _ in his gut and he didn’t know if he liked it or not, so he played along with Simon’s prattering for the time being.

“And- I remember you said, en quote:”  _ Thanks a lot Simon, I really owe ya.”  _ And I tried to say no but, but you insisted?” Now Jake’s  _ really  _ wary of the hopeful look on his face, but still remembers what Simon is talking about and remembers that, yes, he said that just how Simon said it.

_ Please don’t ask me to come with you to a therapy session, or go to some support group for OCD Anonymous.  _ “And?” Jake added, and got really _ , really  _ nervous about the look on Simon’s face, which was borderline  _ esatic _ at this point.

And then it was dropped on him. “I, uh. Want to call it in.”

Jake tried his hardest to keep a neutral face, but couldn’t stop the narrowing of his eyes. “How?”

“Sweet Beans on Pickler Street.” He says in a rush that Jake hardly understands, and suddenly Simon is standing up. “Now.”

Eyes exploding to twice their size, Jake quickly reaches out to grab Simon’s long gray shirt sleeve to pull him to a stop while he gets to his feet too. “Whoa, whoa, what- you want to, like what, take me out right now?” He asks,  _ hoping and praying Simon isn’t asking him out on a date because- _

“No!” Simon exclaims, yanking his arm out of Jake’s hold and waving them in front of his chest. “No, no, not like that, just- I want to h-hang out, I guess.” He finishes with a small voice, like he’s about to change his mind and curl up into bed with a tub of ice cream for the rest of the night, but instead he goes for his jacket hung up in the closet by the door and slips it on before Jake can even think about going for his shoes.

“But-” He’s still hopelessly confused. “-why  _ now?  _ It’s-”

“I want to go now.” Simon whines, and turns back to Jake with a pleading look in his eyes and grabs his hands too tight together. “Please? We’ll be even after this.”

Jake doesn’t move, trying to remain unfazed by Simon’s horrible puppy-dog look and still trying to make sense of the rush of things happening in the moment.

A pregnant pause “I’ll do your Trigonometry homework.”  _ God damn, if this is a date, then- _

Looking into Simon’s eyes and seeing that he’s actually  _ serious _ , Jake goes for his coat and shoes, slipping both articles of clothes on at the same time with an “I’m holding you to that” and running after Simon’s large strides down to the elevator, out the lobby and down to the parking lot where they got into Simon’s old Hyundai Elantra and drove  _ at exactly the speed limit _ all the way to the coffee shop that Jake had vaguely heard the name of because Cameron once said that a cute girl employee there gave him head in the bathroom.

_ Disgusting,  _ Jake thought. Why in the hell would you do any sort of sexual activity in a public bathroom? Do people not realize how many germs are in the-  _ Jesus, I'm starting to sound like Simon.  _ Think of the god damn children- no, no don’t think about the god damn children while getting disgusting head in a disgusting public bathroom-

“Okay.” Simon stated when they arrived, turning off the car after parking and getting out the car without another word. Like, literally, not telling Jake the purpose here, nor telling him where to sit nor asking him if he wanted anything, just getting out of the driver’s seat, walking inside and sitting down in a small booth in the corner of the wall and large glass window, all while Jake was still sitting in the car.

If he didn’t know Simon was just like this because of crippling anxiety and OCD, he would’ve thought he was the rudest son of a bitch on this planet. Pissed with himself for sighing, Jake sighed and got out of the car, following Simon’s footsteps and plopping down across from him in the booth.

“Okay.” Jake started, starting to get annoyed at being kept in the dark. “Simon, why did-” He stopped because he noticed that his roommate was looking at the watch him his wrist compulsively every three seconds.

“Do you… have somewhere to be?” Jake asked.

“I- I might have to leave very soon.” Simon said in a rush, pausing his compulsive looking at his watch to pull out his phone. “For a club meeting.”

Jake gave him his best  _ bitch, what the fuck  _ look he could muster. “Then why did-”

“I just wanted to talk.” Simon twisted around in his seat, looking out the window like he had just heard a gunshot before turning back to look at Jake with a near frantic look on his face. “So, what did you do over break?” He asks, and Jake just… stares.

It’s a simple question, yeah, but it doesn’t match up with anything that’s going on. He remains silent, Simon remains silent, and looks over his shoulder again-

And almost jumps out of his seat. “Oh!” He nearly yells like he’s been stabbed in the kneecaps. “I- I forgot! I invited the pizza guy-”

And Jake stops listening to Simon’s ranting because  _ Dwight Fairfuck _ walks in the door and  _ waves  _ at him. He wants to simultaneously sink through the floor and wave back. So he does nothing but stare at Dwight like he’s the last person he’d expect to see. Because he is.

Jake then realized two things in that moment:  _ Simon was getting up and saying something about leaving and Jake had been set-up. _

He had been duped. Decepted. Bamboozled. Mutinied upon. Hoodwinked. Royally fucked and spitroasted.

“Bye Jake! Catch ya later!” Simon called out to him as the little bell on the front door rang to announce his betrayal, leaving Jake staring at Dwight and Dwight looking awkwardly around before chuckling in an  _ absolutely stupidly cute way _ and sliding into the booth were Simon had been sitting just moments before.

“So, uhhhh, I guess this seat is, uhh, free, then? Hah…” Dwight trailed off, Jake watching as the man nervously rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and looked at Jake’s eyes for a few seconds before darting all around, clearly just as nerve-wracked as he was, and as mean as it was, Jake felt somewhat comforted by that fact.

“I mean…” Dwight says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a jingling set of keys. “If- if you don’t me to stay then I can leave-”

“No!” Jake said, a bit too loudly and quickly to be casual, and he inwardly smacks himself for acting as lovesick as he was. If eh could’ve he would’ve taken it back, but now that Dwight was staring at him with wide doe brown eyes, Jake felt his throat dry up and his anger at Simon dissipate just as fast as it had arisen.

“I… don’t have anywhere to be.” Jake started, grasping his clasped hands as tight as he could to prevent himself from doing anything embarrassing. “You can stay for a bit.”  _ Can I sound any less gay? _ “...it’s really cold outside.”  _ Slightly less gay, slightly more concerned friend mode, it’ll do for now. _

Dwight smiled at him and pockets his keys and Jake’s arrhythmia came back long enough to convince himself that he needs to really get that checked out. “Thanks.” Dwight said in a soft voice, and put his loosely closed fists on the table between them, and said nothing for a few moments while looking all around him like he was in a bubble-

“So… how did your roommate get my number?” Dwight asked, catching Jake totally off-guard and  _ not because he was staring at his soft hair _ .

“What?” He asked loudly, like a dumbass, before the words registered in his brain. Shrugging, Jake truly had no answer for Dwight but he was  _ damn sure  _ he was going to get one when he saw Simon again. “Don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.” Jake shrugged. He realized he did that a lot.

To his surprise, Dwight chuckled lowly instead of not believing him, which Jake wholy expected. “Same here. He, uhh, texted me and said that he wanted to meet me here- after introducing himself and all- but didn’t say anything about you. Not that that’s bad!” Dwight quickly supplemented, fingers shooting up towards the sky to shake with his words.

Jake hummed in response, mind still trying to decide if he wanted to actually sit here with Dwight or if he wanted to pull the fire alarm just behind the front counter. If he went up there and asked for something to eat, he could probably sneak his hand behind there and pull it and be the first out the door and never set foot in here again.

“-Earth to Jake?”  _ Oh shit.  _ Dwight was talking to him and he was staring blankly at the fire alarm like the fucking psycho he was. “Yeah?” Jake asked, blinking a total of one time to show his undivided attention to what Dwight was saying.

Dwight gave him a look and Jake couldn’t believe a grown man could look so cute with a simple head tilt. “How’s your hand?”

“Oh.” Jake said, once again, like a dumbass, and look down at his lap where his healing hand was. He brought it up into the light and let his hand thunk onto the table, palm facing skyward to reveal a mildly visible red line across his palm about an inch and a half long, intersecting with the natural lines there to form a weird orthodox cross pattern. It was actually kinda cool looking and would be something he wouldn’t mind showing off once the redness faded away so he could, like, tell at-risk youth how  _ stupid  _ he was and how  _ not  _ to be like him. 

Motivational speaking as a career seems like a breeze. “It’s fine- the redness is already almost gone.” He wasn’t lying- he had always been a fast healer. “And, ummm…” Jake bit his lip for a second, worrying the flesh for a moment and not seeing the way Dwight looked at him intently while he did so. “...thanks for, y’know, taking me to the nurse that day.”  _ Like a dumbass. _

He watched as Dwight’s face instantly went from concern to a look that Jake could only describe as  _ warm _ . “Oh, no problem! It was the least I could do.” 

Then, Dwight did the worst thing someone could ever do in Jake’s presence: he raised his hand to his mouth, and gnawed on his fingernails. God, Jake just found that so… disgusting in a person, and it was no exception for Dwight… just slightly less so because it was  _ Dwight _ , and that  _ really  _ showed Jake just how much he thought this guy was cute because usually biting nails meant that he could never be friends with them.

Blissfully, Dwight took his hand away from his mouth and Jake tried not to focus on the slightly damp ring fingernail so fucking hard it hurt his eye muscles. “I- I can get you something to eat or drink. I was gonna get me one of those apple turnovers. I can pay.”

_ And get that Meningitis B they’re always saying kills kids going off to college in 24 hours?  _ “No- I just ate. I’m fine.” Jake lied. An apple turnover sounded and  _ smelled  _ good, but he’s not eating or drinking anything from Dwight’s hands.

“You sure?” Halfway out of the booth, Dwight turned to ask Jake once more before he shook his head a definitive no, and Dwight left him alone with his thoughts while he went up to the counter to place his order.

God, he felt bad for saying no to the food… but he just  _ had  _ to be a nail-biter, didn’t he? Dwight should be counting his lucky stars that he found him to be so attractive or else Jake would’ve taken the few precious seconds that Dwight’s back was turned to him to slip out the door and go take a hot shower to cleanse himself of any possible nail-biting spit-  _ Simon.  _ Jake grinned.  _ Simon will die if I tell him Dwight bites his nails. _

That was the only thing  _ (and Dwight looked cute when he turned around with his apple turnover and bounced back to his booth) _ really keeping him seated with Dwight, instead of busting through the window like a looter and running for the hills.

“These are really good.” Dwight said with a small bite of food in his mouth, but at least he covered his mouth with a hand while doing so. “I-” Dwight swallowed, and Jake praised the Lord. “-would come here more often, but, uh, it’s kinda  _ expensive. _ ” Dwight laughed on the last part like it was some sort of joke that went way over Jake’s head.

It went so far over his head that he didn’t say anything, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the pair as Dwight continued to munch down on his turnover and Jake interlocked his fingers in his lap and stared out the window behind Dwight. He hoped it wasn’t going to snow today like the weatherman had forecasted, but the sky is telling a different story that Jake knew he wasn’t going to like the ending of.

“So.” Dwight said loudly, clearing his throat and Jake’s shoulders jerked at the sudden noise. “Yale? You must be pretty smart.”

Jake stared at the little bit of apple turnover on Dwight’s upper lip, and Jake noticed that the man was sporting just a hint of a moustache and it made his own upper lip itch as it brought back memories of when he last shaved three days ago.

_ Yeah, I’m a real fucking Einstien. _ Jake laughed, first at his own thought and then at Dwight’s question. It started out as a soft chuckle, but turned into an ear-to-ear smile with a single tear into his eye. “I guess.” He shrugged, and met Dwight’s confused stare with a mirthful one of his own.

“You guess?” Dwight asked, all innocent like. “But, like, I thought only smart people got into Yale.”

Jake  _ barked _ . “You- how long have you lived here?” He couldn’t have been here long if he thought  _ that _ . Or was stupid like Jake. Which was entirely possible.

It was Dwight’s turn to shrug this time, and Jake suddenly realized how many times he had unintentionally classified something as  _ cute _ on Dwight and how he oddly didn’t care and how much that  _ scared  _ him. “Not long. I- I moved here last July, August? So like, 6 or 7 months?”

“Then, lemme tell you-” Messing with Dwight just a little bit, Jake leaned in and motioned Dwight to do the same, as if he was telling him he had intercepted secret Russian communication. “-how things work at Yale. Yeah, if you’re super,  _ super _ smart you get in, but most kids’ parents bought their way in. Or you get in because of  _ “family connections” _ .” Jake made the quotation marks in the air, and registered the bitter taste the whole conversation had left in his mouth, especially when Dwight soaked all of that information in, and asked Jake with curious eyes:

“So, which one are you, if you’re not  _ smart _ ?” It was meant to be somewhat light-hearted, Jake knew that deep down, but his brain went into full-panic mode when he realized that he would have to tell him that he was the third kind of kid on the list he had put out there, and how  _ shitty  _ that would make him seem to be. He knew he  _ looked  _ like a rich kid, but he certainly didn't want to be one.

And know Dwight knew that; the guy was a pizza delivery guy who told him that this place was  _ expensive  _ for him when to Jake, this is a kind of place his brother would consider  _ beneath him  _ or too  _ blue collar  _ for him. 

As if Jake was clairvoyant, he knew whatever this was between him and Dwight wouldn’t go anywhere, his feelings for Dwight wouldn’t be anything more than a one-sided attraction thing because he was  _ too rich _ and there were going to be too many factors on too many sides pushing and pulling and it just wouldn’t work. His mother and brother would probably accept Dwight, but his father would  _ never, ever  _ allow it, and he would make sure he and Dwight never worked out.

So why bother torturing himself by being around a man he wanted but could never have? It would only hurt him more in the end, Jake realized, and he didn’t  _ want  _ to be hurt by that.

Perceiving that Dwight was still waiting for his answer, Jake did the only thing he could think of: he shrugged his answer, and then whipped out his phone and put on his best surprised face. “Oh.” He heard himself say, deadpanned and bitterly neutral. “I have to go.”

“Oh.” Dwight repeated back, and Jake  _ couldn’t  _ look at the crushed look on his face because he knew he was the cause of it and that hurt him more than any punch to the gut. “Is it something bad?” 

“No.” Jake replied, pocketing his phone and barely giving Dwight a small wave and glance over as he smoothed out his jacket, staring at the front door with a small hint of hesitation in his steps before croaking out a “Bye, Dwight. Have a good day.” and leaving before Dwight could say anything that could make him stay or change his mind.

The cold air and bitter wind was strong on his face, and he made a choppy motion toward his phone to perhaps call his brother or Simon to come pick him up, but he didn’t feel like bothering either one of them right now. Even when the first snowflakes fell on his cold cheek, he still didn’t reach for his phone, and started the nearly mile walk back to Yale as he pushed thoughts of Dwight and regret out of his head and left it behind him as the snow had started to accumulate on the concrete.

The lobby didn’t even feel as warm as it usually was, and he barely waved to the receptionist up front as he scurried back to his room with his legs between his tail, quickly unlocking the door and thanking whatever gods were out there that he was the only one in his dorm so that he was able to lock himself in his room and scream into his pillow until his throat hurt.

His heart hurt, but Jake knew it would hurt worse if he had let whatever he felt for Dwight go any farther. It was good he stopped himself now, he told himself as he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the warm shower to wash the snow off of him, because he didn’t want to hurt Dwight or his family or anybody else with his stupid feelings.

_ I’ll forget about Dwight _ Jake sighed as he slipped under the warm jets of water washing away his emotional torment.  _ I did it before, I’ll do it again. _


	6. CapriSun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I never bothered with summaries in this story before because I would be so tired after typing that I would just post it and go to bed and for that I am sorry. Also I'm not good at these things lol
> 
> All the kudos and comments are lovely and really keep me going, and I've really enjoyed writing this so far! haven't been replying so it doesn't clutter it up too bad, but it really has been a big help.
> 
> So without further ado, have fun reading~ also, I'm putting a poll in the End chapter notes and I would really appreciate if you voted in it for the next path of the story.

He’s not quite sure how long he spent sitting, quite literally  _ sitting _ in the shower and letting his skin turn red from the warmth of the water while he tried to let today’s events roll off into the drain, but when he finally decides that all of today’s events have been scalded off of his skin, Jake wraps a towel around his waist, shakes his hair like a dog, and exits the bathroom and waddles into the kitchen to see what he could have for dinner, grimacing when the coolness of the air hits his bare chest and sends goosebumps racing along his skin.

But, to his delight and horror, Simon is sitting on a kitchen chair, looking at Jake all expectant and for once, happy-ish. The moment he saw Simon, he felt the bottled-up emotions he held swell to the surface and threaten to overspill with regrettable actions, but all the snapiness and harshness of a reply Jake had formed on his tongue dissipated at Simon’s look; like he’s expecting Jake to tell him that the date went well and kiss his ass for it. Jake found that he couldn’t bring himself to be mean to the man who was clearly trying to make Jake happier  _ (and if things were different, he would’ve been) _ -

Simon squeaked and held his hand out in front of him, quickly looking away from Jake’s form clad in only a blue-green towel wrapped around his waist. After a moment of confusion of why his friend was looking away in scandal, Jake grasped that Simon was probably not used to him walking around like this  _ (he wore a surprising lack of clothes when he was alone)  _ and held a hand up in repentance, the other one grasping where the top of his towel tucked into the underside of the thick fabric.

“Sorry.” He excused himself, then scampered off to his room to finish drying off and put some clothes on. Simon should count himself lucky that he came out with clothes on at all. A flush flared across his cheeks at the embarrassing situation that would endure if that were the case until Jake wiped it away with dragging his hands over his face.  _ Jesus, quit acting like those thots Cameron brings home. _

It gave him a few extra moments to decide what he was going to tell Simon at least: the finger-biting thing would certainly get him sympathy points when he told him that he didn’t enjoy his date and doesn’t want to see Dwight again.  _ He bites his nails and that’s utterly disgusting and I can’t ever see him again because I have unexplainable family problems thanks but no thanks buddy- _

Running a hand through his damp locks of black hair, Jake reemerged from his room, dressed in a loose shirt with llamas on it instead of sheep that he really liked because of how fluffy the llamas were and thin blue cargo pants. Fuck socks and shoes.  _ Did he put on underwear? _

“Simon-” Jake starts until he sees Simon with his hand still outstretched and looking away.  _ Wow, am I that ugly? _ “I’m dressed.” Simon immediately lowers his hand with a sigh, and looks up at Jake expectantly. And  _ zestfully _ .

_ Jesus H. Christ.  _ “Simon-” Jake starts again, looking down at Simon until his eyes flickered to another adjacent kitchen table chair and his brain got the good idea to pull it out and sit next to his roommate. “Look… Simon.” Jake is hoping Simon would say something to start the most awkward conversation he’s about to have of his life, but his buddy is silent, looking at him with wide eyes and  _ hope. _

Like he  _ hoped  _ Jake had a nice date. It made Jake feel so odd. “How did  _ today happen _ , Simon?”

“Oh, uh-” Simon, caught off guard by the question, took a second too long to answer. “It wasn’t  _ that  _ hard. He had the PizzaWhat! uniform, which clearly meant he was an employee there, and his name is  _ Dwight _ , and I-I don’t know about you, but who- who in the world names their child  _ Dwight _ \- I certainly wouldn’t-”

That’s a fucking fair point. “Okay, okay, alright, but  _ how did today happen, Simon?” _

“I saw the- the way you acted around him.” Simon said in a big rush of hot air that Jake felt from a couple of feet away. “I’ve never seen you act that way around anyone. You’re always so cool and calm around everyone, even Cameron! And you just-”

“Decided to set me and him up on a blind date?” Jake interrupted, running a hand over his face in exasperation and internally wincing at the way Simon flinched. 

“I-I-I just thought it would be a...nice thing to do.”  _ God, Simon, don’t do this to me.  _ “It’s the- the least I can do for you.” Eyebrows knitting together, Jake tilted his head to the side in confusion at Simon’s statement. “I mean, you’re nice- the  _ nicest _ person to me here, you don’t treat me like a nu- like an  _ invalid _ . I… I’m sorry, I thought going out with Dwight would make you happy.” Jake’s heart couldn’t have hurt worse if someone had shoved a metal rod through his chest and electrocuted to a crisp because he’s  _ disappointed  _ Simon and that hurt  _ deep _ .

That deadly scenario would be nice right about now, though, if that would get him out of this predicament because Jake does  _ not  _ know how to handle it. “I… I appreciate the gesture, Simon. I really do. It’s just… well, I’m not a  _ “dating” _ guy.” Air quotations always made everything easier to understand, right? “But just don’t do it again, okay?”

Looking deflated, Simon took a moment to absorb Jake’s features before nodding in agreement. “Sorry. I promise. Did you-did you not enjoy it?” 

“I…”  _ Deflect! DEFLECT!  _ “It was alright, until-”

“Until what?”

“I found out he was a nail-biter. And then touched stuff with his slobbery hands.”

It took a whole 0.3 seconds for that information to settle into Simon’s skull, but then he pulled an utterly disgusted face that had Jake struggling to contain a smile.

“Oh God, I’m sorry! I didn’t know-” And Jake laughed out loud at that because of the way he said it, like he had rather told him that Dwight was married with 2 kids and a white picket fence. The whole nine yards.

“It’s okay.” He interrupted Simon’s profuse expressions of regret. “Trust me, I was just as disgusted as you were.” For a few moments, Jake could pretend he was  _ okay  _ in the moment and joke with Simon. “He even offered to buy me an apple turnover and I had to turn him down because I saw him pull his fingers out of his mouth the second before.”

“What’s- why do people do that?” Simon asked rhetorically “I don’t understand why people feel the need to auto-cannibalize themselves-”

“ _ Auto-cannibalize-!”  _ Jake slapped his hand onto the black table, bent over double and wheezing because  _ why does that describe it so good why is that fUNNY!? _

Simon’s more hoarse and confused laughter joined alongside his own which only made him laugh harder at the whole thing. They both keep laughing until Jake is heaving and clenching his thighs together to keep himself from pissing himself silly for the absurdity of it all: why was he getting all upset and heartbroken over a man he hardly knew? Wouldn’t do him anything that would benefit him.

Jake swallowed his laughter long enough to stand up and turn for the bathroom. “I- I gotta pee, hold on.” He left Simon at the kitchen table, still chortling to himself and Jake took the most relieving piss he’s ever had in his life. As weird as it sounded, it kinda had the  _ “pissed all my problems away” _ feel to it. After finishing, he got a good look at himself in the mirror, and saw how red his eyes and face, tear-streaks descending from the corners of his eyes and he had the distinct taste of phlegm in the back of his throat, all evidence of both crying and laughing his ass off.

Splashing cold water on his face to get rid of the salt deposits left by his tears, Jake left the bathroom feeling a couple of pounds lighter and with a small smile on his face.

But instead of returning back to the table, Jake takes a detour and goes straight for the fridge, opening the door and bending down to look at the stock. “Hungry?” He asks Simon without turning around, and the man clears his throat before replying in the affirmative. 

His grey eyes eventually lands on some unopened hotdogs with more life behind it than ahead, and Jake grabs them and lets the smack to the counter as he shuts the fridge door and looks up in the bread cabinet for hot dog buns. “Feeling like hot dogs?” Jake offers, and Simon doesn’t respond but he hears the sound of him getting up and walking past him to get a pot from under the counter and wash it off in the sink.

“I feel like going to bed, but I need to eat.” Simon says off-handedly, but it just… irks Jake the wrong way.

“When did you last eat?” He asks, successful in finding the hotdog buns and undoing the twist on them before searching for plates.

The man next to him doesn’t stop scrubbing the pot in the sink, but mutters out an “I don’t know.”, not even bothering to look at Jake.

By the time Jake gets the plates down and on the counter, Simon is still scrubbing in a rhythmic way that makes him shoot out a hand to grab at Simon’s sleeve firmly. “Simon.” He says, and the man doesn’t stop washing.

Jake opens his fingers to fully encompass his roommate’s arm, and is dimly concerned about he can almost wrap his whole hand around his bicep. His hands aren’t that big. “Simon.” Using his strenest voice without sounding outright mean, it finally gets Simon to stop washing and to look at him with wide eyes-

-and tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Jake is very inadequately prepared to deal with anyone crying, even himself. “Hey-” He starts, as maybe a consolidation or an apology, but Simon beats him to it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, but he unexpectedly kept going. “The meds are supposed to be working.”

“Meds?” Jake echoed. “You take, like, Proxert, right?”

“Prozac- or it’s-it’s really called Zoloft. They upped my dose a couple of months before I went off to college because my mental issues was still bad enough that they were worried that- that I would have trouble functioning on my own.” They way Simon talks about it, it’s like… he’s disappointed in the worst way: like he expected it. Jake wouldn’t lie and say he knew about drugs like this, but he lets his grip on Simon’s arm turn to a small shoulder pat of comfort. “That means you’ll feel better, right?”

“...kinda.” Simon gives the pot to Jake, and walks away from the counter, coming to stop at the front door and look at the peephole, lean away from it like he was going to walk back to the table only for him to turn around and take a second look before sighing loudly and shuffling back to his seat at the kitchen table. “It does-really- help with the compulsions. It used to be a lot worse. But… everything else is kinda-” Jake turns around to see Simon hold his arms up, hands grasping at the sky. “-the side effects are rough.”

Filling the pot with water from the water dispenser on the fridge, and turns the stovetop on high and lets four hotdogs slip out of the packaging and plop into the water, turning over in sizzling delight. Jake’s stomach rumbled. “How rough?” He asked, morbidly curious in a way he knew he shouldn’t ask, but felt like he wanted to know anyways. 

Jake turns to face his roommate, letting his hands prop himself up on the counter behind him just in time to see Simon squint in concentration. “Indi-Indigestion is pretty bad. They got me on those little Certs for that.” He doesn’t ask who  _ they  _ are because he might get a complex, multi-layered answer that might be prying a bit too much. “It might be because of that I’m not eating a lot. I’ve lost weight- I’ve- I’ve not done a lot of the things I used to do because I’m tired and can’t sleep enough to not be tired or my sleep schedule is really e-er-eratic. I used to not stutter as bad, believe it or not.” A dry laugh cracked past Simon’s pale lips. “If I’m not feeling anxious or sad I’m not-not feeling much of anything.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit.” Jake comments, can’t help but wonder how Simon gets good grades like he did. He felt like he was going to rip his hair out just when he thinks of his father, but Simon is clearly having far more issues than he has.  _ Ain’t I petty? _ “All that just to make you stop doing those little OCD things?” The hotdogs rolled hotly behind him.

“It actually used to be better when I was 12-ish. They said my body got used to it so I need more for the same effect. And-” Simon broke off, a soft red flush coming over his cheeks. “-that’s not all it does.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m- I’m sorry if this is a rather personal question, but… uh, how much wou-would you say you orgasm?”

_ Oh.  _ That’s probably the last thing he would ever thought he would’ve been asked, especially by  _ Simon _ of all people. He’s sure his cheeks have turned a nice maroon color. “Uhhh…” He spoke like an eloquent resident dumbass. “I… I guess, like, 3 or 4 times a week? Give or take?”

A pout stretched across Simon’s face. “I’m lucky if I can do that in a month. It’s just… hard to do.”  _ Don’t laugh at the pun, Jake, control yourself-  _ “That’s horrible.” He replied because if he said anything else he might’ve smiled at the worst time.

“And they want to increase my dosage again because of all of that.” 

Jake stood up at his full height of 5’8. The hotdogs were now bloated and toasty-looking. “That’s stupid.” He stated “That makes-”

“No sense?” Simon finished for him “Yeah, but I- I don’t really have a choice in the matter. My parents pay for my medications and whatever my therapist says, they agree with. I’ve been on medication since I was six and-and that’s how it’s always been.”

Jake gave a hotdogs a look that said  _ how dare you be ready now during this very rare and important conversation  _ but turned around to turn the stove off. Nothing that Simon said made sense to Jake’s more practical brain- why take medicine that made you sicker than it made you feel better? “Haven’t you told your therapist how it makes you sick?”

It was then Simon got this… downright  _ depressed  _ look on his face. “Yes. They either tell me it’ll ge-get better, it’ll clear up on it own, or they simply give me more medicine to deal with it. And when tha-that doesn’t work, they say that it’s...normal, I guess. That I have to put up with some side effects to be better.”

_ God.  _ “What about your parents?”

“They think the word of my therapist is God. That, an-and they want me to be a  _ “normal” _ kid. I-” Simon trailed off for a moment, and Jake took that lull in conversation to fetch the plates and knife and stab the hotdogs and slap them onto plates, grabbing up the buns and transferring them over. “-I st-stopped taking them once when I was, um, a rebellious teenager. It was fine for a day or two but then I had horrible withdrawal symptoms and my parents were  _ pissed.  _ They administered my medicine by after that fr-for a while.” Simon let out a bitter laugh as Jake finally returned to the kitchen table, a plate of cooked hotdogs in each hand. 

Jake sat down and took a single bite of his hotdog before making a noise in the back of his throat. “At least Cameron got the good brand.”

“Of what? Hotdogs, buns, or condoms?” Jake nearly got choked on his hotdog and slammed his hand down on the table to put all of his effort into swallowing the food in his mouth while he laughed at his friend’s-

_ Friend? _ When had he started to consider Simon a friend? Sure, the man was a walking stick and, more often than not, the little tic things Simon did got on his nerves and the stuttering was less than desirable, but… the man had honestly become someone he could  _ rely  _ on, and talk to if needed be. It was clear to Jake that Simon didn’t come from a super-privileged background, didn’t feel entitled or anything and was more focused on his studies than hazing new Frat members or vaping or Calvin Kleining some shit like that.

Plus, he was a great help with coordinating their time spent in their dorms so they could avoid Cameron as much as possible, and that was something that stuck out in Jake’s mind.

... _ also _ , a cruel and selfish part of Jake’s mind deviously whispered to him,  _ he’s just as trapped and enslaved by his parents as you are. _ God, could his inner thoughts take a chill pill right now? He was trying to enjoy his hotdog which was now over halfway gone due to discovering just how  _ hungry  _ he was when he started eating.

Laughter subsided for now, Jake took another large bite of his hotdog before deciding he needed a CapriSun and got up from his seat and grabbed one out of the fridge. “You want one?” He held the one he had in his hand up, shaking it slightly at Simon, who nodded his head in agreement, and Jake fetched another one and slid it across the table when he sat back down.

Jake wasn’t as embarrassed when it took a handful of tries to stab the little straw through the small, silver microfilm circle that was the gateway to juice goodness when he saw Simon having the same problem with eventual success as well. 

They sat in silence for the rest of their meal, alternating between sipping out of their juice pouches and eating the rest of their hotdog. Simon seemed to finish the last of his bites lacklusterly, and Jake truly noticed that Simon had certainly dropped a few pounds since when he had first met him.

It made his problems of an overbearing and over-expecting father seem like nothing when he thought about what Simon must be going through.

Jake paused after his last thought, and then raised the small sliver of CapriSun he had left in the air, right above eye level. “Cheers. Here’s hoping Cameron isn’t staying with us for the next four years.”

“Hear, hear.” Simon answered softly, and tilted his pouch to nearly a 90 degree angle so he could avoid any part of where he touched his mouth to any part where Jake touched his mouth, which almost lead to the leakage of the rest of his drink. Creating a brief right angle with their pouches, they finished off the rest of their meal afterwards, and Jake  _ insisted  _ that he would clean up, not allowing Simon to get anywhere near the sink to start an half-hour of Simon repeating the same actions over and over that would just drive them both insane.

Feeling lazy, Jake takes a shortcut and pours soap on the sponge and gives the plates and hotdog a single good scrub, ignoring all of the other dishes Cameron refuses to wash and decides to call it a day when he sees that it’s well after 7 in the evening and Simon has since long ago tread into his room and gone silent. It makes sense now that Simon has trouble sleeping: Jake has come home after hanging out at a local park when it was warmer about this time to find either Simon dead asleep or wired, and he’s woken up at 5 in the morning to either find that his friend has been up all night or in a comatose state.

For one of the few times in his life, Jake truly wished he could help someone other than himself. Sighing, he pulls out his earbuds and heavily considers passing out on the sofa for the evening and going so far as to take a seat and lay back against the cushions, but when the sounds of his lesser appealing roommate and girls giggling reach his ears, just a second away from being plugged with soft woodland sounds, he quickly decides that he just needs to go to his room and lock the door for the evening, and that he does.

Sleep comes quickly when he turns the volumne up just loud enough to drown out whatever the fuck Cameron and whoever he brought in here was doing, and felt his eyes and limbs growing heavy as random thoughts began to flutter into his brain. 

Namely about one Dwight Fairfield. He forced his eyes open just a fraction of an inch more in a futile hope of dashing the thoughts of the man from his consciousness, but all it did was make his body drag him harder into sleep that was impossible to deny.

And so was impossible to stop the dream that followed after the beginning darkness that blanketed his mind of the same Dwight Fairfield.

_ A warm hand on his shoulder made him turn to see the bespaceled face of the man who he fancied. Jake’s mouth opened to speak, but found his words gone when Dwight smiled. _

_ The hand on his shoulder was gone, now slipped into one of his own. _

_ “You’re adorable.” Dwight spoke in words Jake had never heard before _ , _ and soon found himself being led by Dwight across a msih-mashed dreamscape that flickered between various places that he knew and places he didn’t. _

_ Jake opened his mouth again. This time words flowed forth “So are you.” _

_ Dwight laughed, a sound that brought a smile to Jake’s face. “But you’re adorable and handsome, how could I beat that?” _

_ The words were simple, but it made his heart race, his body flush and his blood sing within his veins. “I don’t know.” He said, dumbstruck and at a loss for words and felt his mouth go dry when Dwight turned around and gave him the softest look he’d ever been given by someone that wasn’t his mother. _

_ Dream-Dwight took a step forward, only slightly taller than him (like in real life, Jake realized) _ ,  _ and pressed their foreheads together, the very tips of their noses brushing against one another’s. _

_ “So…” Dwight started, a shy smile plastered on his face. “...does-does this mean we’re boyfriends?” _

_ Jake’s mouth hung open, not sure of what to say or if he was about to suffer from massive heart failure and positively stopped breathing when Dwight leaned forward just a little bit and brushed his lips against the open skin of his cheek and huffed warmly against the skin there. _

_ “...is that a yes?” _

Jake never had a chance to answer him because his alarm clock went off and scrambled his thoughts into a really gay omelet. It both made him feel good and bad: good because that was a  _ nice dream  _ and bad because it was about a guy that he could  _ never have _ , not in a million years. So he did what he did with all the other thoughts and occasional dreams he had he didn’t want to deal with; file it away and don’t dwell on it. He didn’t want to think about how  _ wanted  _ and  _ valued  _ he felt in the dream-  _ pathetic _ . How Dwight being that close to him felt so  _ right. _ Nope, not gonna think about it.

  
And that’s what he did-  _ it was super effective! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://strawpoll.com/64aser4y ~ The poll ends at November 2nd at 7PM Eastern Standard Time. Thanks!


	7. Mushy Crackers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for voting in the poll thingy! Sorry for the lack of hoe-possessing this chapter, but I promise there will be plenty of it next time.
> 
> As always, your love and appreciation fuels me to keep writing, and I've even started going over what I've written at the end to make it just a tiny bit better which I've been too lazy to ever do.
> 
> Once again, thanks and I promise, next chapter will take off and be lit as fucc
> 
> Also I'll start putting in some warnings for those who may not like some things (like below), but Mental Illness will be present throughout the whole story.
> 
> Warnings for: vomiting

It worked. Not thinking about  _ it _ . It helped a lot that he didn’t see Dwight anymore, and that Simon had only brought it up once as a random question of how Jake was feeling about it.

_ “Are you...d-doing alright?” Simon had asked out of the blue one day while they were eating in an isolated corner of the Mess Hall several weeks after the disastrous date had happen, and Jake had done a pretty good job so far of not thinking about  _ ** _it_ ** _ . _

_ “Huh?” Jake answered back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and mouth partially obstructed by bread. _

_ “I-I don’t mean to bring it up, but… are you really doing alright? Li-Like after the thing with Dwight?” Jake’s face dropped at that, his mouth pitching downwards as a sour taste filled the back of his throat. _

_ “It’s fine.” He responded, perhaps a bit too quickly but Simon didn’t comment on it. Jake took a single bite of his cheeseburger and looked away from his lunch buddy. _

_ “Okay.” Simon used his fork to push around his carrots, and Jake noticed that Simon hadn’t eaten much off his plate. In fact, he seemed to be eating less, but that was Jake’s extremely limited observation, so he wasn’t about to accuse Simon of neglecting himself because he simply didn’t have enough proof. “But I really meant… are you okay with liking a man?” _

_ This whole time, Jake had been jogging his legs so hard under the table that his body was vibrating, and it all came to a sudden stop at Simon’s question. Was he okay with liking a man? He hadn’t really thought about it: he knew his father wouldn’t like it, but him…? _

_ “...yeah.” He found that he didn’t really care about his own sexuality: he had never really thought about it and didn't care about it now. He tried to elicit some emotion towards possibly being gay, but he couldn’t find anything. The only emotion he felt was leftover affection for Dwight and Jake didn’t want to feel that so he pushed it away as fast as it had risen. “It’s fine- I mean, I don’t care.”  _

_ Simon gave him a puzzled look. “Y-you don’t care?” _

_ Jake took another bite of his burger. “Nope.” And popped the “p” for enouncination.  _

_ And thank God, Simon, instead of pressing further, make a noise and shrugged his shoulders, and took a slow bite of a crunchy carrot. _

Schoolwork took most of his time, nowadays, too. It’s not that it was  _ super  _ hard, just very time consuming. Usually he just bullshitted his way through his work, and it  _ worked _ , pun intended- and if he really needed help, Simon was usually just a few feet away down the hall to ask.

His activity related with schoolwork would go through spurts, though. For the last week of January, Jake felt like all he did was wake up, eat, go to class, do schoolwork, and go to bed. It was a monotone existence that Jake began to really hate and wonder if throwing himself out of a window would buy him some brownie points with teachers and sympathy-worn his way out of class assignments. He even considered bribery- he had plenty of money from his  _ allowance  _ given to him by his parents, which was a good $2,000 a month that he didn’t use most of.

He really, really thought about bribing teachers- but  _ alas _ , unfortunately he had more pride than that.

But after getting into the first week of February, schoolwork died off to a more reasonable level, and Jake felt like he could breathe again and spend time being a normal person  _ aka  _ hanging out at the nearby parks and throwing bread at pigeons and then discretely throwing bread  _ on  _ people that were bothering him when he gained the pigeon’s trust, effectively sicking them on them.

Pigeons were a lot smarter than people gave them credit for, and Jake used that to his advantage. Let people call him a nut for doing so, but it was really fucking funny and entertaining. 

But he couldn’t do that too much, given that it was February and snow still fell about every few days and it was  _ freezing  _ outside compared to Virginia and Jake found that out of his whole college experience, he hated the climate the most.

Even though his brother didn’t really complain about the cold since he could dress as  _ dramatically  _ as he wished with long coats and the occasional fur like the Victorian man that he was, Jake can’t control his laughter whenever they happen to spend time together and starts snowing outside. Edward _ hates  _ snow, and he has a hissy fit when Jake tracks any of it in his studio apartment or when he has to drive in it. 

Edward’s usually squeaky-clean mouth turns as dirty as the city sewer then, and it gets worse when Jake starts laughing.

It helps him to forget about Dwight until he  _ almost _ , almost runs into him at some stupid Valentine’s Day shitshow at Yale in the Mess Hall when he spots the man standing near a lengthy table dedicated for food from PizzaWhat! that was drawing throngs of young adults that, blessedly, gives Jake the cover he needs to stare at Dwight until the count of eight and then  _ run away _ because he doesn’t want to know or think about Dwight existing because it’ll just  _ hurt. _

Jake tells himself that his face is flushed and his heart is racing because of how fast he left the Mess Hall, and not from the rush of emotions he felt upon seeing Dwight Fairfield. Jake is blessed again when he doesn’t dream about Dwight again that night, like _last time _that would only make his emotions go crazier. Other than that, the only thing remarkable that happened that day is that Jake and Simon decide to go eat at IHOP when Cameron decides to bring home some “friends” from the Valentine Day’s dance their school hosted to continue dancing back in their dorm room… without clothes.

He paid, of course: he had  _ way  _ more money than what he knew to do with, and generously told Simon to have whatever he wanted on the menu. Not unsurprisingly, his roommate had just ordered a glass of milk and a couple of pancakes and Jake had a feeling that he was going to have a struggle just eating that. 

The brief flash of sympathy he had felt for Simon was suddenly turned up all the way when Simon asked him a question. “R-remember a little while back? After-after...well… the  _ date? _ ” Simon asked, hesitant to bring up a sensitive topic to Jake, but Jake didn’t show if it bothered him or not.

“Yes.” Jake said. Cautiously.

His friend gave a single head nod and sipped his milk (after thoroughly inspecting it), and drizzled just a small bit of syrup out the small packet that he was given (after thoroughly inspecting it) before cutting off a small piece of pancake with his fork and knife (after thoroughly inspecting it) to nibble at the food (after thoroughly inspecting it).

“I mention that my therapist was considering inc-increasing my dosage?”

“Yea- wait. Are they-” Jake started, but the look on his friend’s face confirmed his unasked inquiry.

“Tomorrow.” Simon finally finished his first small slice of food and cut after another small half-circle of pancake (after thoroughly inspecting it). “They’re putting me on the max dosage.”

“And how much is that?” Like he had any sort of fucking knowledge of that time of thing  _ (he did, actually, he had looked up the drug Simon had mentioned once and saw how many ways it fucked you up for life)  _ like an intelligent son of a bitch.

“200 milligrams.” Simon ate this piece slower than he did the first. He took a measured sip of his milk. “They-they think college is making me worse, so-so they want to make sure I’m  _ “capable”  _ of functioning.” The little air quotes Simon gave were so uncharacteristic of the normally serious man- Jake realized that he hadn’t been so serious lately around him. Did that mean something relationship-wise? He kinda hoped it didn’t because he had no idea what that would be or how to deal with it. That didn’t make him a coward.

“Damn.” Jake said, because what else do you say? Especially when Jake and Simon both know that they can’t really do anything about it as long as Simon’s parents control the money and means to get his meds. “...why tell me, though?” He’s honestly curious.

And he gets his answer and He Doesn’t Like It. “Because…” Simon finishes his second piece and cuts a bigger third (after thoroughly inspecting it). “...th-they warned me that since it’s a big- the biggest dosage, it might make me… uh, different, to put it lightly.”

No, he didn’t like that at all. Jake put down his forkful of bacon and looked at Simon like had just admitted he was John Cena himself. “Different? How, like-”   
  


“It can make me super mood swing-y or s-s-super depressed or really aggressive. It’s- it’s not a big deal, but since I’m on the max dosage that I need to be monitored for a couple of months. I’m just… letting you know just in case you, um, catch anything I miss.” Simon tried to give him a big smile, but it ends up looking like he hasn’t slept in days and on the verge of face-planting into his half-eaten pancakes and Jake honestly feels  _ bad  _ for him.

“Alright.” Jake agress, giving his friend a nod and a raise of his glass of water because it was far too late for coffee and he didn’t feel like staying up all night. “So, if you go all  _ girl from the Ring _ on me, do I have permission to get the fuck out of Dodge and sic you on Cameron?”

Simon pulled a face and chuckled, taking a sip of his milk (after thoroughly inspecting it) and wiping his mouth off with his napkin (after thoroughly inspecting it). “Only if you promise to call the police as-as you leave.”

Jake laughed because he can’t imagine someone as scrawny and as docile-looking as  _ Simon  _ really hurting anybody, and he takes a small bite of his eggs and hash browns as his mind wanders to what he and Simon plans on doing the rest of the night; which he couldn’t imagine being more than hiding out at IHOP until Cameron and his  _ guests  _ leave their dorm, allowing them sneak back in and crawl into bed.

That’s pretty much what happens; the only detour being Jake sees an outside black and white tuxedo cat _ (not a stray, it was too fresh looking) _ , and gives it some love for a few moments while Simon preaches to him about how many diseases he could get from petting strange animals, to which Jake started rattling off all sorts of diseases Cameron could give them from his illicit activities, which only started an intense battle-like conversation about which transmitted more diseases: humans or animals and whose fault was it.

Simon also had to convince Jake not to take the cat home with him, which was another great battle in an of itself. From the two-and-a-half minutes Jake had spent petting it, he had already fallen in love with the cat apparently named Gunther by it’s name-tag on it’s collar. 

Jake remembers February 24th as an important day: the day the temperature finally got about 60 degrees and the day Jake finally didn’t have to wear a heavy jacket outside. The weather people online called the warm temperature  _ unusual  _ and a sign of global warming, but also said that the warmth would only last for a few days at most, then the snow would return to finish out the month and cover the city of New Haven in a couple of more inches of snow before the tendrils of winter finally start to lose their grasp on New England. For Jake it couldn’t come quick enough.

February 24th was also the day he came home from going out to get a sub at Subway to his dorm to find Simon sitting on their wooden black kitchen table- literally on the table, indian style and hands loosely in his lap- and staring blankly at the front door with no emotion, no warmth and no greeting when Jake put a foot inside.

Jake would like to say he didn’t squawk at the sight, but that would be a very untrue statement. Gasping loudly and freezing, his frame only melted when he realized Simon wasn’t about to jump him or move. “Simon!” He said louder than a normal person would say, and sighed as he let his satchel slip from his shoulder and fall to the floor next to the doorframe, and walked over to the counters to put his bag from Subway onto the granite slab to eat after he had gotten settled.

And Simon was silent. Jake had his back turned to his friend, but felt what he could only describe as an  _ oppressive presence _ behind him. It  _ felt  _ like what the kind of music would play in horror movies would feel like if music could be translated into feelings. And that was too complicated for Jake to think about any further, so he let the plastic bag slump into the counter and he slowly but smoothly turned around to look at his roommate.

Simon hadn’t moved, still staring at the front door like he was expecting the Kool-Aid man to come busting through at any moment. Hadn’t said hello to Jake, hadn’t commented on putting his satchel in a more proper place, hasn’t insisted on him taking off his shoes so he wouldn’t track dirt inside  _ because OCD is just like that _ \- the fact that Simon hadn’t done  _ that  _ really unnerved Jake.

He took a step around the counter and approached the man on the table. Jake inhaled once deeply, then let it out through his nose to release some of the tension in his muscles. “Simon.”

No response. Simon did so much as move or twitch or  _ blink.  _ Jake started at him until the count of 20 to wait until Simon blinked. He didn’t.

Going against his non-touchy nature, Jake firmly grabbed Simon by his upper arm, which felt even skinnier than usual and gave him a harsh shake. “Simon!” Raising his voice to an almost yelling level, it seemed to finally bring Simon out of his daze, for he shot backwards and prevented himself from cracking his head on the wood by throwing his palms behind him and steadying himself. Gasping for air, Jake watched as Simon acted as if he had just surfaced from the ocean, minus the water.

“Jesus, Simon.” His hold on his arm lessened, but it was kept there in concern. “Are you okay?”

Simon stared at him, pale lips parted and chest heaving. He couldn’t speak as his brain fought to catch up with the present times, and Jake asked again if he was okay.

“I… I-I don’t know.” Simon spluttered, red lips standing out against his pale face. “I called out of cl-class today because… the medicine is kicking in and my therapist said it-it would probably make me sick when it did and I  _ was _ . I threw up most of this morning and then… I don’t know.” Simon stopped his rambling to look around, and noticed his exact seating arrangement. 

“I- how did I…?” Simon rubbed the back of his neck, very confused and it was very obvious by the way his eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled. Jake saw just how utterly lost he was, and gave him arm a gentle squeeze once more.

“It’s alright. Here, just get down.” Jake pulled slightly on Simon’s arm to get him moving when he hesitated, still looking around like he was looking for something.

His roommate’s feet were unsteady once he hit the tile, and Jake had to hold him when he righted himself, eyes darting back and forth. “Simon, seriously-”

“I don’t r-remember. How I got on the table.” He explained, speaking fast and breathless. “I remember throwing up for a while and I felt hungry, but I-I-I don’t…?” Hearing enough, Jake decided it would be the best for both of them if Simon sat down on the sofa while he got him a bottle of water.

He could still hear his roommate talking to himself lowly, trying to go through step-by-step of what happened to him today. Jake had a few thoughts to himself, namely one where he hypothesized that Simon’s medicine had made him totally nuts and  _ this is what he was talking about at the IHOP. _

Jake came back with a bottle of water, twisting the cap off of it and holding it out for Simon. “Hey.” He whispered, getting Simon’s attention. “Drink this.” He pushed the bottle more towards Simon, who took it and started drinking it down after a moment’s hesitation.

“Sorry.” Simon gasped out after swelling down a large gulp of water. Once he made sure Simon was drinking water, Jake sat down next to Simon on the sofa. “I’m so s-sorry, Jake. I really don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Jake reassured. “You said it might be your new medicine?”

Simon shrugged. “It’s the on-only thing it- I can think of, honestly.”

Jake nodded. “What did your therapist say to do if…  _ this  _ happened?”

Simon shrugged again, albeit slower this time. “She said side effects will happen. She only said to call her if I become extremely ill, really aggressive or suicidal. Which I-I’m not!” He put his hands up really quick, waving them and dismissing any possible concern Jake had on that subject.

Jake still wasn’t 100% sure on how Simon was feeling, so he pressed further that he ever had into the emotional pot. “Simon…” He tried off for a moment, trying to come up with something smart to say. “...are you sure you’re okay? Be honest with me.”

Simon stared at him as the seconds of time ticked by, then shook his head. “No, I- No. But I’ll be fine.” 

Jake didn’t believe him fully, but Simon looked at him with such  _ rawness  _ that he nodded and accepted his answer. Letting his shoulders sag and hair fall into his face, Jake got to his feet and gestured towards the kitchen.

“You think you can eat something?”

Simon didn’t move, but muttered quietly “I’m not hungry, Ja-Jake.”

Jake frowned with a  _ hmmph _ sound and put his hands on his hips. “You said you threw up this morning. You have to eat  _ something _ , or else you’ll really get sick.”  _ God, when did he become such a mother hen? Is this what happens when you make friends? _

The pale man opened his mouth, but then closed it. And then opened it again, voice breaking when he said “Y-you don’t have to.”

“I  _ want _ to.” It wasn’t a lie, surprisingly. Jake found that he  _ honestly  _ wanted to do this for Simon. He usually didn’t want to really help anyone like this barr his mother and brother, and now apparently Simon was an exception. “C’mon, I’ll make you some soup and crackers. Just eat a little bit, please?” 

Simon looked up at Jake, then looked down at the ground, between his feet. “...Okay.” He finally uttered, looking back up at Jake and standing up on his own to pad over to the kitchen table to sit down in a chair. Something about him still seemed  _ off  _ to Jake, but he had more important things to worry about than that.

Jake made him soup and crackers, and dined with him by eating his sub as Simon took his time blowing off the hot broth. Jake was pleased when Simon managed to slurp down all the mushy crackers and nearly all of the broth and noodles before putting his hand over his mouth and proclaiming that he was going to puke if he ate any more, and then promptly went to bed afterwards and slept for most of the afternoon while cleaned up the kitchen  _ (and a little bit of dried puke left behind by Simon from when he wasn’t there, but it was alright because the last time he threw up he didn’t feel like mopping up either) _ , and then Jake chilled out with his schoolwork until it was time to hide away in his room from Cameron and then went to sleep that night as usual.

The next morning he was awoken by the sound of Simon retching into the bathroom sink again, and like the good person he is, Jake crawled out of bed at  _ 5:46 a.m.  _ and pat Simon on the back a few times while he had his head turned to keep an eye out for Cameron stumbling down the hall.

But Jake should’ve known that Cameron was too lazy to come in there personally and too selfish to be concerned, so it startled when he heard a fist pounding on the other side of the wall accompanied by the Frat Boy’s angry yell of  _ “Quit fuckin’ pukin’ in there, I need my beauty sleep!” _

Jake gritted his teeth together in frustration at Cameron’s egotistically, but it couldn’t stop his own retort of  _ “It’s nowhere near as gross as the whores you bring here!” _

Simon spat up acid, slumping to the floor with his back to the sink cabinets and curled over with his hands clutching his stomach laughing so hard that the next bit of acid he threw up came out of his nose. Which only made him throw up  _ again  _ into the tiny trash can a mixture of mostly-digested crackers and bile acid that burned Jake’s sinuses.

Finally, after almost 20 minutes of Simon clutching the small waste bin in the bathroom, Jake thanked the Lord that the worst of his roommate’s gagging was behind him and was surprised to see him smiling.

“Th- _ cough _ \- thanks, Jake.”

_ For what?  _ “You’re welcome?” He answered like he was asking a question because he didn’t think his version of consoling someone while their throwing up was worth a Green Peace Prize.

Simon shuddered out a chuckle, clutching the bin closer to him as another wave of nausea passed over him. “Just… everything. Like-e… I would’ve dr-dropped out of school by now if it hadn’t been for you.”

Jake eyebrows absconded into his hairline, along with his normal voice, replaced by a higher-pitched one. “What? What do you mean?”

Audibly swallowing, Jake watched as Simon reached up to snag a bit of toilet paper so he could wipe his face off before throwing it away and clearing his raspy throat, voice raw from the acid still lingering in his throat.

“School’s not hard.” Simon started, shaking the toilet paper off of his sweaty hands into the bin. “Not- not too much, anyways: it’s the  _ people  _ here that’s hard.” Simon wiped the tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand, and picked his head up to look into Jake’s eyes.

“You’re not the only rich kid out here.” Simon paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. “You have just as much money as they do, but they don’t have one bit of  _ sincerity  _ that you do. They’re just...fake to me. Especially the girls; you could probably poke one with a stick and she’d deflate like a balloon.”

Jake didn’t really understand what Simon meant by sincerity, but the ballon joke was enough to bring a soft smile to his face. “If I-I didn’t know any better-” Simon carried on after seeing Jake smile. “I wouldn’t have known you were rich. You don’t even want to be seen as rich. Not-not to be mean, but you dress like a vagabond sometimes, Jake. Like a homeless person.”

His smile did a 180. “Hey, listen-” his shoulders rolled back, acting insulted. “-it’s called being lazy and shopping at Wal-Mart.”

“What I don’t understand is-” Simon ignored his explanation. “-why you don’t want to be seen as rich yet you buy expensive jackets-”

“ _ Listen- _ ” Jake reiterated, more forcefully this time but with his smile doing yet another 180 to make his cheeks hurt. “Okay, yes, I don't like to be seen as rich, and yes, I like to shop at Walmart, and  _ yes _ , I’m lazy- but I’m cold all the time and I deserve a nice jacket.”

“Jake, y-you bought a  _ sheepskin jacket _ for yourself for Christmas at Henry’s & Sons for $752. And- and don’t say you didn’t- I saw the tag on it when you were cutting it off! And it was on  _ sale. _ ”

_ “Look, listen _ \- yes, and that’s why I bought it:  _ it was on sale. _ I just don't throw money at overpriced items, I wait ‘til they go on sale. Like any normal person with common sense.”

Simon glared at Jake disapprovingly before dipping his head back into the trash bin as another wave of nausea passed through him that thankfully proved to be a false alarm. Before Simon could pick his head back up to reach around for the toilet paper, he turned to face Jake when the man tapped his shoulder and held some out to him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, before using it to blow his nose in and then letting it drop into the bin. Jake watched Simon make a pitiful attempt of wiping his sweaty face off before his friend deciding standing up was the next action to take. Simon proved to be still wobbly on his feet, and Jake grabbed his arm just in case he started to fall but he was shook off was Simon reassured him he was fine before spitting into the sink.

Pale hands clasped the handle and turn the water on full blast, Simon shoved his other hand under the water stream and brought it to his face, splashing cold water on his face to dispel the shaky feeling causing his hands to tremble.

Jake still wasn’t convinced Simon was alright, fishing his phone from out of his pockets of his pants that he had shoved in there when he had first heard Simon retching and checked the time. “It’s almost 7.” He watched as Simon shook his head and turned to walk towards the door.

“I need to-” He reached for the doorknob until Jake beat him to it.

“-Go back to bed.” He finished for him. “I’ll call out for you today. You just need to rest.”

Simon shook his head, taking another half-step towards the door. “I-I can’t. I’ve already missed one d-day and I-”

“-and I’ll get your work for you. You can’t go to class like this.” Jake moved his hands onto Simon’s shoulders, and steered him back towards his bed, and pushed him down on it. “When the last time you ate? And not just soup and crackers.” Jake interjected his last sentence when Simon looked up to protest the soup and crackers part, then his head dropped to think about Jake’s question.

When Simon failed to answer as the seconds ticked by, Jake sighed and yanked back Simon’s covers and waited for him to lay back into bed. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Thanks.” Simon muttered, and Jake nodded and threw the covers on his face playfully before he turned around to leave Simon’s room.

“Don’t choke on your own puke and die while I’m gone today.” He joked, hearing his friend weakly chuckle behind him as he closed the door shut, walking back to his room to get dressed for the day and to leave early to inform the Dean that Simon was too ill to go to class today.

It was when Jake was pulling on his uniform pants that the last statement of his thoughts struck him oddly.  _ Why was he doing this for Simon?  _ And  _ God I really am a Mom now. _ Simon was truly the only person here he would consider a friend of  _ any  _ sorts, and what did a friend even constitute? Jake had never really had a real, true friend that he wasn’t related to, and if you’d asked him at the beginning of the year who his friend would’ve been, he sure as hell wouldn’t have thought it would have been Simon.

It was odd and weird how it made him feel when he was around him, like he was someone he could trust and rely on and even have  _ trust  _ and  _ faith _ in. And Jake found that he liked that feeling- and all that stuff Simon had said about him earlier made him feel  _ good.  _ Like the friendship was real and mutual and beneficial. It made college seem more...doable. More achievable with a friend who could help the long days go by.

And if friendship also means putting your friend into bed and wiping up a little bit of puke, then so be it. 

Jake realized, with a ghost of a smile on his face, that he had been standing in the middle of his room holding the waistline of his pants right above his knees while he had been thinking about all of that for a good minute or so, looking up where the wall met the ceiling. Thank God nobody was around to see that.


	8. Be smart: don't get possessed, kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to write this chapter that I wrote most of it today which was probably a horrible idea for the quality of it hell YA!
> 
> For some reason, I don't like how I wrote the end of this (but i do love how i wrote it, you feel me?)
> 
> Once again, I thrive off ur love and support! And, as promised- its hoe possessing time! (also, Dwight will begin to make his reappearance soon! It's kinda foreshadowed in this chapter a bit lol
> 
> Warnings are: more puking, more mental illness, depression, suicide attempt, murder-suicide attempt, violence, a HOE gets possessed, possession related freaky stuff and some very mean and naughty language.

The rest of his day went by smoothly for Jake. School wasn’t too boring or repetitive, nobody tried to bother him, no  _ surprise!  _ Dwight lurking around anywhere, and when he got back to his dorm, Cameron wasn’t having any parties or fucking any girls in their dorm. The only thing he found was Simon, wrapped in a blanket, sitting at the kitchen table eating soup and toast and looking a little less pale than he did this morning. 

“Hey.” Jake said, closing the door behind him and slipping his satchel off his shoulders. “You look better.”

Simon made a noise. “Not too much, but I-I haven’t puked since early this morning.”

Jake slung his jacket over the back of another kitchen chair, giving Simon an approving look over. “Good, ‘cause you’re gonna be puking when you see your homework.”

The spoon in Simon’s hand clanged against the bowl loudly, and the man groaned in distress at the mention of homework.

“Don’t worry.” Said Jake, trying to ease Simon’s despair. “I was going to give you my completed work for the classes that we share to help you.”

Jake almost bawked out in laughter at the look of disbelief that crossed onto Simon’s face. “Jake, that’s cheating.”

“Cheating is when I  _ “give” _ you the answers, so I’m not gonna give them to you.” His statement was given a puzzled stare, so he elaborated with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ll hide them somewhere and you can just  _ happen  _ to find them. That way it’s an accident.” His grand and  _ perfect  _ idea was rewarded with a blank stare from his friend that lasted way too long to be approving.

His explanation was given a continuing stare of disbelief, but them Simon started to  _ chuckle.  _ “Jake, I-I think you may be  _ too smart  _ for Yale.” And then ate another crunchy piece of toast and smiled brightly at his friend. 

And Jake found that he couldn’t help but smile back, kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the door but out of the way of anybody else who dared to enter. “For real Simon, are you feeling better?”

Simon shrugged and finished off the rest of his toast, then wiping his fingers and mouth delicately on a napkin next to this bowl. “Li-like I’ve said, I haven’t puked  _ yet. _ And my stomach’s not protesting as bad. I-I think I’m good.”

“Yeah, well, don’t even think about going back to class tomorrow unless you eat something for dinner.” Jake added on, using his best  _ dad  _ voice and going for the fridge to pull out his calzone to eat. “I don’t want to be the one carrying you out of class after you pass out from hunger.”

Jake failed to see the wicked smile forming across Simon’s face as he was still facing the fridge, calzone in hand. “Well, I have it on  _ good source  _ that after you  _ accidentally  _ stabbed yourself with a pen, you had to be carried out by-”

“Fuck you!” Jake interrupted, wheeling around and throwing the roll of paper towels he had just grabbed to put his calzone on to warm it up in the microwave at his blanket-covered roommate. He tried to put anger and malice in his voice, but failed miserably as a smile stretched from ear to ear and his voice broke at the end of his curse.

The paper towels bounced off Simon’s hand harmlessly which he had put up in a last second self-defense move, and the roll landed on the floor and began unfurling itself back towards Jake.

“Do you know how many trees you’ve just wasted, Jake?” Simon began fake-admonishing him, a smile still stretching his face. “Do-Do you know how many nanoseconds closer the Earth was brought to its demise by making these paper towels, and now you’ve just  _ wasted them?” _

Jake darted to pick up the paper towels, and then threw them at Simon again, the unfurled pieces fluttering behind it and covering Simon, who threw it back with all the strength left in his skinny limbs.

And that’s how the Great Paper Towel War of 2020 started, and it ended when Jake’s aim went horribly askew and ended up knocking the remainder of Simon’s soup down on the floor and they had to use the rest of the paper towels to mop it up. Well-  _ Jake  _ ended up having to wipe it up because the second Simon leaned down to help him he put a hand over his stomach and nearly threw up what little he had eaten.Not wanting to clean up soup  _ and  _ vomit, Jake told Simon to go rest and he would clean up the rest of the floor. 

By the time Jake was done over a half hour later, Simon had drifted off to sleep on the sofa, still wrapped up in his blankets and snoring lightly. Jake found that he didn’t have the heart in him to wake him up and drag him to bed, so he stayed there resting for the next several hours.

Jake found that Simon was sleeping more over the next few days than he had ever seen the man sleep and still, he didn’t have the heart in him to wake him up when he would find him slumped over his desk trying to get caught up on his schoolwork, half-hanging off the sofa or face-first on the kitchen table. Even the teachers would either let him sleep or send him back to his dorm for the day. Not to mention that if he ate more than a few bites of solid food, he would get queasy and be in severe danger of throwing up his lunch. Jake figured that they all probably just felt bad for the man and gave his a lot of free passes.

In fact, Jake was surprised one day nearly a week after his new symptoms started when he went to go wake Simon up to go to class one day to find that he slept through his alarm clock. It took Jake shaking Simon and calling out his name for the man to open his eyes slowly and grumble in sleep.

“Go away.” Simon rolled over onto his back. “Don’t feel like it.”

Jake rolled his eyes, giving Simon another shake. “Alright, now get up, it’s almost-”

“I don’t feel like it.” Simon said again, speaking a little bit more clearly and coherently, and rolled completely away from Jake. “Let me sleep in.”

“Simon.” Jake repeated, now starting to get a bit concerned. Simon had never just  _ blown off  _ school like this before. Was this another new symptom of his drugs- not giving a shit anymore? “Listen, if you don’t get up now you’ll be late for class.”

“Mmmmm.” Simon moaned, begrudgingly rolling back onto his back to stare blearily up at his roommate. “I...I don’t want to go.”

Now getting perturbed, Jake cocked his leg and put his hands on his hips. “Yes, you do. Now, you gotta get up or we’re gonna be late.” With that, he yanked the duvet off of his friend and stormed off back to his own room. 

Even though he was a bit annoyed that Simon tried to skip school that day, Jake felt  _ relieved  _ when he heard Simon finally roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom to cough and spit into the sink.

But Jake found his concern for Simon’s well-being return when, in their Human Relations class later on that day, Simon wasn’t doing…  _ anything.  _ He was just fiddling with his pen on his desk, not taking notes nor doing really any of his classwork. Even as sick as he was all week, he was a stickler for getting his work done.

“Hey.” Jake leaned over their joint desk to give Simon a poke in the arm with the eraser part of his pencil, speaking quietly so they didn’t get called out by the teacher rambling on in a lecture. “Why aren’t you doing anything?” Jake knew it probably didn’t sound good, the way he asked that question, but he didn’t know how else to ask it.

Simon’s shoulders shrugged like the weight of the world was on them. “I-I just… don’t feel like it.” Jake eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He asked again like he was Henry David Thoreau. 

“I don’t…” Simon began again, but ended up just shrugging again. “...don’t feel any motivation to do it.”

And evidently he didn't. Simon sat there the entire class period, only taking notes or writing some answers down when Jake would poke him in the arm or nudge him with his foot, but eventually Simon began to ignore even  _ that _ .

Once that class was over and they separated for the rest of the day, Jake still couldn’t help but run the events over in his mind again. He was pretty sure Simon said his new dosage could make him sad or something? Maybe he was just  _ really  _ fucking sad or shit? Jake hoped that it wouldn’t be a permanent thing, or else Simon would start having an extremely hard time at Yale: you can’t keep passing grades up with that attitude.

With that final thought in mind, Jake returned to his dorm after meeting up with his brother that afternoon to discuss what they were both going to do since their father invited them to some sort of shitty family business meeting where their father would  _ introduce _ them to some of his fellow business partners and neither of them particularly wanted to do it. He and Edward spent a good couple of hours coming up with tactical maneuvers to avoid the worst parts of the meeting, and Jake even went so far as to suggest calling the cops to fake-report a drug party going on at their house and making a run for it before the cops even got there.

Edward hadn’t said no to the plan, but he thumped Jake on the nose and told him that if he ever put one of his ideas onto paper and sold it to the public, he could be the richest man alive.

The first thing Jake noticed when he got back to his dorm at nearly 5 o’clock was that Simon had left his bags on the kitchen table, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Simon?” Jake looked around and saw his friend nowhere in the kitchen or living space, so he quickly trekked back to Simon’s room and knocked on his door. “You in there?” 

His knuckles poised over the wood of the door, the lack of a response had him ready to knock again but Simon’s answer stopped him.

“Yes.” It sounded so  _ weak. _ Not like, weak weak, but like, _ devoid of emotion _ weak. It really made Jake concerned, but he wasn’t about to barge in Simon’s room without good reason.

“Alright.” Jake muttered mostly to himself, and turned on his heel, heading to lay on the sofa to look at cute cats because that  _ always  _ helps. “Let me know if you need anything.” Simon didn’t answer.

As much as Jake thought he was tough inside when it came to beating emotions back with a nail-covered bat, Simon’s condition didn’t improve and it began to  _ hurt.  _ Jake hadn’t realized just how much he had liked Simon’s presence around him, even as annoying as it could be sometimes with his odd little quirks and tics. Another week passed with Simon being lackluster at best, and Jake found himself getting angry at  _ everything _ that going to reaching a boiling point sooner rather than later.

Exactly ten days passed after Simon’s sudden change in attitude before Jake had enough, and found good enough reason to barge into Simon’s room at 7:30 at night, his anger reaching that said boiling point.

“Look.” Jake said, pointing his finger at a prone Simon laying on his bed except he wasn’t asleep this time. He hadn’t been sleeping quite as much as he had begun to, but now Jake knew those dark circles under his hazel eyes must be from something else other than a lack of sleep. He forgot his words when he saw Simon’s disheveled and unkempt appearance, but soon clenched his jaw and kept speaking with his original intentions.

“You… you’re my friend, okay?” The words weren’t forced, the opposite, really, but they felt awkward coming out of his mouth. “And there’s clearly something wrong with you-”

“There’s a lot wrong with m-me, Jake.” Simon said in that deprecative tone of voice that Jake had heard too much of lately, and it just made him madder.

“Simon, that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it!” His volume was raising a bit too loud if the wince on Simon’s face was any indicator, but Jake found it hard to care in this moment. It’s probably the loudest he’s been in months. “I’m not a fucking doctor, but I know when medicine isn’t working and this  _ shit  _ isn’t working-”

“You think I haven’t thought of that, Jake?” Simon said, his own voice rising as he threw back the covers and slowly got on his bare feet to argue back with Jake. But even still, his words lacked any real bite. “I told my therapist today when I saw her that I hardly feel an-anything anymore. She told me,  _ “Oh, that’s normal when switching meds or raising your dosage, just give it a couple of weeks and you’ll feel better”  _ and so that’s what I’ve been doing: waiting.”

“Waiting for what? The other shoe to drop? The rainbows and sunshine to come back? What if it doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, Jake, okay? I just… I don’t know.” Simon raked a hand through his dirty blonde hair, making it even messier than before. It looked like he hadn’t combed it in  _ days  _ and Jake wondered when he had actually last brushed his hair. Simon deflated and slumped down onto his bed as the last echo of his voice settled into the walls. “I… I appreciate your concern. I really do. But don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll either get better or I’ll have my dosage changed again.” 

Jake didn’t believe him on the last part, nor did he believe Simon’s weak smile on his face. His jaw unclenched to say something  _ really  _ hurtful because that’s how he  _ felt _ , but Simon saved himself by getting up off the bed and slipping on his shoes without ceremony.

“You k-know what? I’ll go to the park. I might even pet a stray dog.” His smile was a little bit more genuine this time, and Jake released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Would that make you feel better, Jake?”

He wanted to say  _ I don’t care, do whatever  _ but that would’ve been a lie, so Jake changed his answer to an enthusiastic nod, returning Simon’s smile. “But-” Jake pulled out his phone to look at the time, smile dropping a little bit. “-it’s almost 8.”

“I’ll be back soon. No longer than an hour.” Simon promised, already putting on his jacket and getting his keys and phone. “Maybe I-I can miss Cameron making his grand entrance.”

Jake sighed, and resigned to following Simon out into the living room and flopping on the sofa, pulling his phone and earbuds out. “I’ll be waiting for you to get back. Don’t get kidnapped.” He heard Simon’s scoff as he left, carefully closing the door behind him and leaving Jake alone with his gentle rain and forest sounds that YouTube creators had blessed him with.

Jake would glance at his phone clock every now and then, keeping an ear out for Simon’s return.  _ 8:15. 8:30 _ . Jake pulled a blanket under him and arranged a pillow under his head and got comfortable.  _ 8:45 _ . He switched to watching absolutely stupid memes and felt his eyes start to get heavy against his wishes.  _ 9:00 _ . Jake rolled over to his side and ignored Cameron as he stumbled into his room, either high or drunk but Jake didn’t care as long as he didn’t go into his and Simon’s room. He placed his phone on the table right next to the sofa, his earbuds stretching across the small space.

Jake checked his clock at _ 9:14 _ one last time before his body betrayed him and he drifted off to sleep right afterwards, and the next thing he knew sunlight was burning his eyelids and his face felt warm. One of his earbuds had slipped out and was dangling loosely, drool had slipped from his mouth and grossly crusted onto his cheek and his hand was just hovering above the living room floor.

It took a few moments for Jake to come to his senses, bolting upright when he realized that it was  _ morning  _ and that after fumbling for his phone, he saw that it was 6:22 am and that he was going to be late for class if he didn’t get up right now and  _ where the fuck was Simon!? Did something happen to him, did he do somethin- _

Throwing the blanket off of him and untangling his earphones from his person, Jake made his way down his hall, and stopped at Simon’s door and started knocking on it.

“Simon?” He called out, and was rewarded with the sound of a bed squeaking, then the door opening and Simon emerged, dressed in his Yale pants with a blue overshirt that he recognized as one of Simon’s warmer sleeping shirts. His hair was damp, and he smelled… different. Definitely smelt better than he did before. Jake figured he hadn’t taken a bath in several, depressing days, but this new smell was a scent Jake couldn’t put his finger on.

“Oh, hi.” Simon said, rubbing his eyes and blinking them to clear the sleep from them. It stuck odd to Jake: Simon had clearly just woke up, but he had also clearly taken a bath? He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. “E-Excuse me.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed together and his lips pursed. “Simon, when did you come the hell home last night?”

“Oh.” Simon bit his lip and looked down, racking his brain for an answer. “Like, 9ish?”

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in him didn’t  _ believe  _ him. Testing his instincts, Jake decided to  _ fub  _ his response a little bit to see what his friend would say. Jake shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, like he  _ knew  _ Simon wasn’t telling the truth. “I waited ‘til nearly 11 and you never came home. Where the hell were you?” 

Another confused look crossed over Simon’s face, and his eyes shifted all around, not looking at Jake anymore. His eyebrows furrowed so hard that his eyes nearly crossed. “I must’ve been out later than I thought. I-I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He uncrossed his arms, lips turning downwards. “Yeah, you kinda did. A lot, Simon.”  _ I didn’t know what happened to you and I panicked. _

Simon huffed, placing his hand on his door frame and letting it hold his weight. “I’m sorry. I-I won’t do it again. I promise.”

And there was Simon, being all sincere and nearly pathetic-looking again. “Fine.” Jake relaxed his stance, and went back to the living room to get his phone and earphones, going back to his room to get ready for class. And for the first time in a while, Simon was ready for class before him.

The rest of the day passed well for Jake. Simon was still distant and despondent as he had been, but he just didn’t seem as… voiceless as before? If that was the right word. Simon at least tried to hold a conversation with him now, instead of just mumbling an answer at him.

More days passed, and Simon held his promise to Jake, always coming back at least by 9 o’clock. But that was the least of Jake’s concerns when more and more days passed.

Simon had increasingly odd behavior: some days his friend wouldn’t be in their dorm room when Jake came home from class, but the days he _was_, Jake would find him staring off into the distance at various locations. Once he came home to see him sitting on the sofa, but he was turned around, looking out the large glass windows behind the sofa and looking out onto the landscape, and another time he came home to see Simon standing at the counter or at the kitchen table, staring at the wall above the counter. It freaked him out a lot more than he let on.

He was also reading a lot of books from the library. Jake didn’t really look at them, but they weren’t the Lord of the Rings series. And if he wasn’t doing any of that, he would be out until, like he said before, no later than 9 o’clock.

The week finished out, and Simon slowly tapered off and away from him again. Jake tried his hardest to keep Simon interested in something; schoolwork, the news, their resistance against Cameron, anything- but Simon honestly just seemed  _ uninterested  _ in everything, like his own existence was boring beyond belief.

Jake hadn’t really had any experience with depression, but if he had a picture of Simon, he would tape into the giant dictionary in the library right over the word.

But he could tell Simon was  _ trying _ sometimes, but every smile or friendly gesture seemed fake, synthetic, fabricated, ungenuine and it was really starting to piss Jake off. He couldn’t believe he was losing his  _ one, first and only  _ friend to some stupid meds. Jake had seriously considered taking the meds from Simon, but when reading about the horrible side effects one could suffer from if that happened, he decided not to do that. But  _ Jesus H. Christ _ , he was really willing to do it if it just got Simon back, and that’s what really pissed him off: that he was  _ missing  _ Simon and was willing to be that petty to get him back.

Simon wasn’t stuttering nearly as much anymore and his tics and quirks were occuring noticeably less than before, but that was probably due to the fact that Simon didn’t do much of  _ anything _ lately, and hardly spoke. Jake thought that maybe Simon saw that as  _ an improvement _ , but not to Jake. It wasn’t worth the price they were both paying.

Another week passed, and Jake was about near damn ready to find his therapist himself and strangle her because he wanted his  _ friend  _ back, but once again, Simon did something that made him forget about that.

He came up to him one day, the first time he had done that in a while, and asked him for  _ money _ .

“What?” Jake questioned, both curious and insulted that Simon didn’t talk to him much but he came up to ask him for _money? For what? _

“I need $100.” Simon stated. “I wanted to buy something for my sister. Her birthday is this Saturday.”

Jake thought hard to think if Simon had a sister. He vaguely remembered that he did, but he couldn’t remember her name at the moment, probably because he was feeling  _ things  _ because Simon was asking him for money.

“Okay.” He could understand if you wanted money for  _ that _ , but didn’t Simon get money himself? He had to have. His parents weren’t rich like his, but they were well off enough to send Simon enough money to live off of, pay his medical bills and meds, and buy a new Mustang as Simon showed him a picture of his family sent to him this past Christmas Break of them all piled in it for some sort of vacation Simon wasn’t invited to, despite Simon having nearly two weeks off. _ That still irked him. _

“Don’t you have money? I mean- I’ll give it to you, but why $100?” Jake didn’t like the way that came out of his mouth, but it did and he couldn’t take it back. Thank goodness, Simon didn’t take offense or show any sort of emotional response- which was common nowadays. Jake recorrected his statement to something more pleasant. “That’s a lot of money. How old is she?”

“She’s turning 12.” Simon stated. “I was just gonna order her a few things off of Amazon and have it shipped to her. Express Shipping from here to Florida isn’t cheap, ahaha.” Simon laughed and it felt  _ fake _ and Jake wanted it to  _ stop  _ so he got his wallet out and handed his 5 $20’s and told him good luck.  _ Good luck?  _ Why does he need good luck? And also why doesn’t Simon go down to his sister’s birthday party himself? As far as Jake knew, Simon and his sister really got along- there was just a lot of unanswered questions that were starting to pile up and Jake was starting to get tired of it all.

“Thanks so much, Jake- I’ll pay you back in a few weeks.” Simon promised, something that still didn’t seem genuine but Jake knew Simon had never  _ once  _ reneged on a promise before so he nodded and took his word for it. His roommate then left without another word, leaving Jake alone with his swirling thoughts that he shoved into the trash can, along with the paper copy of his Business Class essay that didn’t make sense anyways because  _ fuck friendship feelings. _

Friday- the day before Simon’s sister birthday- came around, and Jake had planned on going straight home after his last class, but a text from his brother had his plans changing completely. 

_ Jake,  _ the text started and he hated it already,  _ Dad is going to have another one of his parties next weekend and he wants us to come.  _ Period and all. 

Then the next text came a few seconds afterwards.  _ I’m outside.  _ Jake was poised to tell Edward to tell Dad to shove a stick up his ass when he again texted a few seconds later. 

_ I have Wendy’s.  _

His fate was  _ sealed _ . 

Jake turned on his heels from where he had been heading to his dorm out to the parking lot, but on his way he just happen to run into Simon who had been heading to their dorm like he had originally been.

“Hey.” He stopped in front of Simon, who looked just as dead inside as usual. “I know we had planned on studying together-” Jake had finally convinced Simon to do  _ something  _ with him and now he had to blow it off and he suddenly felt really, really  _ bad  _ for it, but shit happens that’s out of his control. “-but my brother texted and I have to deal with family stuff so I’ll be home later.” Now that Jake thought about it, he might just end up staying the night. “Or tomorrow.”  _ To give him a break from Simon,  _ his brain cruelly thought, and Jake hated it.

Jake had fully expected Simon to somehow look even more pitiful, but instead, he looked oddly…  _ pleased.  _ “Okay.” He said, very flat and monotone and it didn’t match the look on his face and that made Jake extremely  _ uncomfortable _ . “You can stay the night there, I don’t mind.” It sounded like he  _ wanted  _ Jake to stay over, but that was probably just his mind playing tricks on him.

But probably one of the few words of wisdom his father had actually imparted onto him that stuck was  _ always trust your gut, Jake, even when it doesn’t make sense  _ and his gut was telling him that Simon wanted him out of the dorm that evening.

He didn’t know why, but Jake had a foreboding feeling in his chest, seeping into his muscles like an icy pack. It made his lungs freeze and refuse to expand fully, so his voice was tight. “I might if it’s too cold.” He tried to make a light hearted comment, but it didn’t stick and Simon’s chuckle was odd and out of place with his tone of voice.

“It-It’s fine, really. Have a good evening with your brother, Jake.” Simon waved, and then kept walking back towards the dorms. A red flag was flying proudly in his brain, but there was Wendy’s waiting for him with his brother, and he had a date with destiny he couldn’t miss.

As soon as Jake walked out front where his brother’s car was waiting, he could see Edward holding up the Wendy’s bag in the window like he needed to  _ see  _ it lest he run away like an excitable puppy. Jake hoped Edward could see how hard he rolled his eyes and felt how hard he slammed the door shut and snatched the bag from him.

“Hey.” Edward said, a scowl on his face. “I’m sorry for dragging you away from a surely  _ entertaining  _ night alone in your dorm with your right hand and Reddit, but family duties sometime takes precedence. Don’t slam my door.”

Jake made a noise of fake-disgust. “God, Edward, watch your potty mouth. Don’t want me to have to tell Daddy about your decrepit language, do you?”

“Piss off.” Edward said, and took off from the curb, heading towards his high-rise studio apartment while Jake cackled and dug into his bag of Wendy’s, ignoring Edward’s repeated warning of not getting crumbs all over his car.

As it turned out, Edward  _ repeatedly  _ offered Jake to spend the night, and Jake almost took it up.

_ Almost… _ but then Simon’s actions from earlier kept replaying in his mind, and despite the red flags that popped up at several interactions, Jake felt the urge to go back to his dorm and somehow intervene.  _ That is the stupidest thing I could possibly do _ , he thought, but Jake  _ has  _ to know what Simon was acting weird about earlier.

So when Edward asks him if he wants to stay over, reminding him of how chilly it was still outside for him and how he didn’t have class tomorrow, Jake thought for a moment, briefly reconsidering his options, then declined his brother’s offer.

“No, I want to go home. I promised my roommate I’d study with him tonight.” A jolt of anxiousness zipped through his chest and Jake couldn’t figure out why. 

Edward cocked an eyebrow. “That Simon fellow?”

Jake nodded in agreement.

“You know he’s one of the Zieglers. His father, Lars Ziegler, is on the board of directors of Yale. He’s a part owner of Volkswagen; inherited it, practically.”

Huh. Jake actually didn’t know most of that information. Didn’t know why Edward was tellin him this, though. “And?”

Edward gave him a  _ look _ over a fancy magazine he was reading. “Point is: I’ve met them before, and well… if you still fancy yourself a boyfriend, he would be better than your  _ previous choice.  _ They act a lot richer than they actually are, and Dad likes them.”

Is...

Is he serious? Jake laughed at Edward, and then laughed harder at Edward’s accompanying shrug. He couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but it was so incredulous and slightly insulting that it was  _ funny.  _ Tears started streaming down his face, and he managed to blink through tears to see his brother’s shoulder shaking with soft laughter as well.

“Yeah… Yeah, I can see the result of that.” Jake managed to choke out through his bouts of laughter. “ _ ”Hey Dad, I have a boyfriend and I know you don’t want nor support me being gay, but look! It’s okay! He’s RICH-” _ ”

“I-I need a drink.” Edward giggled out, and got up to get him a wine glass behind Jake’s field of view. Taking deep gulps of air to steady himself, Jake spared a look at the clock on Edward’s wall and read 6:46.

“Don’t drink too much.” Jake got up and gathered his things, slipping his shoes back on. “You got to drive me back to my dorn.”

“Hmmph.” Edward made a noise over the rim of his half-full wine glass, which he quickly downed in one go once he saw Jake getting ready to go outside. “I’ll have to tell Dad how much you need a car so I can stop chauffeuring you around town.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been saving money from my monthly allowance to get one this spring.” He really had been, and he really proud of it. “Thinkin’ about getting a Camry.”

“Well, look at you.” Edward sang. “So independent he doesn’t need Daddy’s money.”

“Damn right I don’t.” Jake stuck his tongue out, and opened the door to the apartment. “And  _ who  _ cosigned for your Rolls-Royce?”

His brother swirled around on his heels. “ _ Hey _ , you want to ride public transport?”

“ _ Oh no, not public transportation! I’ll get the Plague if I ride that!”  _ Jake mocked, and started running when he saw Edward snatch his keys off his end table and coat and ran after him, chasing him down the hallway- until one of the custodians told them to stop running or he would call security on them. Since neither of them felt like getting arrested, they both decided to take the elevator instead of chasing each other down the stairwell like complete nuts as they had originally planned.

“I deserve an apology.” Edward said as Jake walked around to get into the passenger side, but stopped when he heard Edward’s condensating statement.

Then he took a step towards the hood and gently laid his front across it, arms outspread in his attempt to give the car a hug. “I’m sorry, Miss Dawn, I didn’t mean to offend you-”

A hand slapped him across the back of the head and then grabbed him by the cuff of his sheepskin jacket and hauled him back upright to see the twitching face of his brother, conflicted on whether trying to be pissed or trying not to laugh. “Get in, you rat bastard.”

The ride back to his dorm was guided by streetlights and retreating sunlight on account of how dark it was becoming outside, trioed with heavy traffic leftover from the 5 o’clock rush hour. It was about halfway back to the dorm when Jake remembered everything concerning Simon, and that small pang of anxiety rose back in his chest that he quashed to a non-existent pulp a second later.

When Edward finally pull up to the dorm houses, he paused for a moment. “Are you sure you want to stay here? I thought the other roommate you hated usually brought home girls on Friday nights.”

“He hasn’t lately.” At least he didn’t last week. Jake still didn’t know why. “Plus, I promised Simon.”

“Alright.” Edward huffed, and unlocked the doors with a single, slim finger. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Jake replied, and shut the car door more gently this time, and turned to hurry his way up the steps to his dorm, trying to get out of the chill and up to his room. Getting to his floor, Jake reached into his pocket to get his room keys out, quickly approaching the room-

-the lights flickered all down the hallway as soon as he came to a halt in front of his door. He froze, twisting his head and looking both ways down the hall for a source of the flickering but found nothing noteworthy. Jake quickly thought inclement weather might be causing power fluctuations, but it had just been clear and a little bit chilly outside and nowhere near cold enough for frost.

Now he  _ really  _ didn’t want to go into his room. This was how all horror movies started, wasn’t it? Jake took a step back from his door, hand with his keys falling to his side as he seriously contemplated booking it back down the hall.

Jake took another step back; the lights flickered again. There was nobody in the hallway, and nobody was stepping outside to check the flickering lights, either.

Jake turned back the way he came and took a half-step, fist tightening around his keys hard enough that the teeth dug into his palm-

He heard a low growling, scraping noise from what felt like all around him- no,  _ above  _ him, like it was in the air ducts. He finished his half-step and started with his next one-

A noise came from inside his room, a noise that sounded like talking but he couldn’t understand what it was. A loud sob followed that he  _ knew  _ he didn’t mishear, and followed by yet another noise that sounded like something heavy was either put down or picked up.

_ “Mmmmmmmmmmmm…”  _ Jake  _ literally  _ bounced up and down on the balls of his feet in  _ emotions  _ because as much as he didn’t want to go into the dorm, he knew that Simon was more than likely in there and he wasn’t a  _ coward _ . 

Just… just a little superstitious.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Jake muttered to himself and he slowly, slower than a seven-year itch, crept back to the door and readied the keys in his hand to both unlock the door and shank someone. “I’m a moron- I’m about to fucking die.” He kept saying to himself for moral support. He lifted his keys and shakily inserted it into the lock. “I’m gonna fucking die like all those dumb bitches in horror movies- ha!” Jake manically laughed to himself once. “I’m gonna die for  _ friendship-!” _

He unlocked the door, and Jake swung it open as fast as he could because he couldn’t deal with the suspense any longer, but he didn’t take a step in because  _ he still had a brain cell left in him. _

_ And it’s probably what saved his life, when he thought about it later. _

The first thing he noticed was that all of the main, overhead lights in their room was off, the only lights in the room coming from outside or the couple of table lamps that they had. The second thing he noticed was that Simon was sitting on the sofa, still in his Yale uniform minus his outdoor jacket and had his head hanging down, looking at something he had cradled in his lap-

The moment the door swung open, Simon had moved and stood up in the flash of an eye and had pointed what he had in his lap at Jake.

It took a split  _ nanosecond  _ for Jake to realize that  _ Simon  _ was pointing a  _ gun  _ at him.

Jake watched as Simon’s finger tightened on the trigger for a brief moment, and Jake had the thought of  _ this is how my life ends huh, being shot by my own best friend _ before something flashed across Simon’s face, and he untightened his finger on the gun and lowered it a fraction of an inch but still had it in a ready to use position. He forgot how to breathe.

“Jake?” Simon croaked out. Jake could hear and see evidence of him grossly crying as the light from the hallway illuminated his face, paler than he had ever seen it before. “No, you-you weren’t…” Simon’s face crumbled, and he briefly looked around in confusion, wildly and frantically before his eyes settled back onto Jake.

Jake didn’t say a damn word. Couldn’t: he was too  _ shocked  _ by what was going on to do anything else other than stand there, until Simon sobbed again. He still had no idea what Simon was thinking of, but Jake was thinking of murder-sucidie and he wasn’t about to be known in the news for  _ that. _

“Simon…” He said as gently as he could, taking a single step so that his heels was just on the threshold of the doorway, ready to bolt if he needed to. “Listen, what-”

**“No!”** Simon suddenly yelled, head snapping up fast enough to give anybody whiplash, and the door that had been wide open behind Jake suddenly slammed shut, hitting him hard in the back and sending him on his knees to the ground with a hard grunt.

_ That’s it,  _ he bitterly thought to himself as stars swam in his vision _ , I’m about to be sacrificed to the Devil by SIMON, of all people. I hope he enjoys the one braincell that I have to offer. _

“Jake.” Simon sobbed out again, crying visibly again and his free hand came to pull at his hair. “I’m sorry.” He said, and Jake met his eyes and knew that he  _ meant it.  _ He them pointed the gun to his own head. “I-I-I can’t take it anymore, please-” 

“Simon, please.” Jake begged, putting his hands up in a surrendering position and raising to one knee, blinking the stars away furiously. He willed his voice not to break. “Death is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

“It’s not temporary,  _ Jake _ .” Simon spat out with more hate and vitriol he thought the mild-mannered man could  _ ever  _ have, his face morphing into something  _ cruel  _ and  _ evil _ . He ripped the gun away from his forehead and pointed it back at Jake. “My parents control my money, my therapist, my meds, my  _ everything _ . Just like yours do, isn’t that r-right? You fucking hypocrite, you wouldn’t give yourself a chance with Dwight becuase your  _ Daddy  _ wouldn’t like it if you had a boyfriend.”

He said that last part as a fact, and that really scared Jake. Simon shouldn’t know that as a  _ fact.  _ As a theory, maybe, but not as a fact.

“You act so big and tough like you don’t care-” Simon  _ strode  _ towards him, spitting and grasping the gun so hard his knuckles turned white. He threw the small coffee table that was in front of the sofa, sadly in his way, to the left hard enough that the wood shattered against the wall, splinters falling to the ground. “-but you’re not. You’re a cowardly pussy. You can act all you want, but I know that even here, you still suck your father’s  _ dick  _ because you want to be a  _ good boy  _ and make him proud, even three hundred miles away.”

Jake didn’t say anything, just simply stared up at Simon as he walked closer and closer to him.

“You came here to Yale because  _ he  _ wanted you to. You stayed here because  _ he  _ wanted you to. You gave up your only chance of any romantic love here because you knew  _ he  _ wouldn’t like it. So, what does that make you? Nothing but your father’s lapdog; just like me. There’s nothing for me besides what my father wants me to do, so why is there anything for you besides what your father wants you to do?”

Simon audibly cocked the gun, and Jake sprang to his feet. He saw the horrible, deformed smile on Simon’s face and knew it wasn’t real. But the gun and the bullets in the chambers were and his risk of dying was  _ real.  _ Tears were streaming down Simon’s face and he hiccuped.

“You know what, you’re right.” Jake stalled to buy time.  _ For what? No one was coming to save them, so he had to think of something.  _ “You’re completely right, and guess what? You just shredded the last braincell I had with that revelation. You’re right: I could’ve been happy with Dwight; hell, we could’ve lived happily ever after, the fucking end, but I didn’t give it a chance. And I’m gonna think about it the rest of my life because of what could’ve been- but you don’t have to do that, Simon. Please, put the gun down.”  _ There’s a vase on the table right next to Simon, I could reach it if I lunged for it- _

“We can’t regret our past decisions if we’re both dead.”

The smile got wider, but Simon cried harder, and finished his sentence with a sob. He steadied the gun right inbetween Jake’s eyes, his finger tightening on the trigger and the long end of the silencer just a foot from his face as his heart raced and sweat dripped from his neck-

Jake ducked under the gun and shot his hand out for the vase, fingers grazing his only saving grace, but a hand wrapped around his throat and  _ lifted  _ him up into the air, clear off his feet and  _ squeezed.  _

“ **Nice try** .” Simon’s voice wasn’t Simon anymore, replaced by something deep and grovely and Jake wheezed as his airway was slowly being restricted. His hands came up to scramble for purchase at Simon’s skinny arms, scratching and clawing and drawing blood, but Simon only flinched from the pain and lifted him higher.

“Simon-!” He squeaked out, reaching a hand to claw at his roommate’s face to get him to  _ let go,  _ but that just made the hand around his neck tighten further, truly choking him at this point.  _ Please, let go Simon-! Oh my God his eyes are  _ ** _black_ ** _ - _

**“You ruined the plan.” ** Simon-not-Simon said, eyes completely black and chuckling evilly as he watched Jake struggle for air helplessly. Tears blurred Jake’s vision, mixing in with the stars that shot everywhere and the darkness creeping into his field of view.  **“The oth-”**

Inbetween Jake hearing that he ruined the ‘plan’ and Simon starting to talk again, Jake had decided that he was going  _ not  _ to be choked to death like a dumb bitch in a horror movie and used his last bit of draining strength to kick Simon as hard as he could in his lower stomach.

And to his live-saving surprise,  _ it worked.  _ Simon dropped him with a yell of pain, doubling over and clutching his stomach,  _ throwing him away from him _ , and Jake took the opportunity to get a good lungful of air into him and grabbed the vase off the table, slamming it into the side of Simon’s face.

The vase shattered against Simon’s head, knocking the man to the ground and pieces of glass everywhere. The man grabbed his head, now bleeding  _ really  _ dark red blood and groaned in pain, the gun scattering across the hardwood and onto the tile of the kitchen.

Jake, seeing an opportunity to get the upper hand, ran for the gun and narrowly missed Simon’s blood-covered hand grabbing for his ankle. Simon fell over on his side when he missed, and started sobbing openly again, lying in a spreading pile of the blood from his head wound.

“Jake…” He heard Simon cry out, and he turned with the gun in his hand to see his friend writhing on the floor. Jake wanted to, oddly enough, run over and give him a big ol’ friendly hug, but that was probably an even  _ stupider  _ thing to do than stepping foot in the dorm in the first place.

He kept the gun trained on Simon as he slowly rolled over to lay on his front and get to his hands and knees, his sobbing and crying morphing into maniacal laughter.

“Help me.” Simon said to him, broken and riddled with guilt, and then staggered to his feet-

-and vomited a thick, black liquid all over the large gray square carpet catacorner with the two corner couches, and collapsed back down to his knees.

Jake could not  _ believe  _ what he was seeing. At first, he thought Simon was vomiting blood, but then he reached over and flipped on the overhead light and saw that it was not red at all, but black, dark as  _ night  _ black and it looked to be  _ smouldering.  _

Maybe he could just vomit it out of his system and be alright?

Jake crept towards the front door, and locked it just to make sure nobody could come in there-

**“FUCK YOU!” ** Simon yelled, throwing out his arm towards the hallway closet and the door flew open and slammed so hard against the wall behind it that it fell off the top hinge and swayed loosely by its bottom. Jake yelled out in shock, and ducked behind the kitchen table for protection.

But thankfully, instead of Simon swinging his arm back towards Jake, he fell back onto both hands again, throwing up more of that black stuff.

He was confused as to  _ why  _ Simon threw the door open, until Simon croaked out his name again. Jake looked back at his friend and saw him pointing at the now broken door. “Ja-Jake… inside… help me, pl-please-e.” Simon sobbed and rolled over onto his side, gagging as thick, viscous liquid ran from his mouth and nose, staining the gray carpet black, jerking wildly as if having a seizure, but that could be the case because he was still talking to himself,  _ right _ ?

Not taking his eyes off of Simon, Jake kept the gun pointed at Simon but walked over to the open door, and looked inside for something that Simon would want him to see, his gray eyes quickly scanning up and down the shelf until they settled on some thick rope shoved behind a couple of bottles of cleaning supplies.

Way too thick to be normal rope, rope that looked more like nautical rope. Jake didn’t put it there and he didn’t think Cameron would have any excus- Jake didn’t want to think about the  _ implications  _ of it being there, and spared no time in picking it up and turning back to face Simon, still vomiting and crying on the ground.

Simon wants him to tie him up? Sure, nothing weird or odd about that, totally.

Holding the gun in his dominant hand and unfurling the rope with his other hand from where it had been bundled together loosely, Jake approaches Simon with the upmost caution, and bends down to his level, careful to avoid any of the black stuff he was throwing up. “Simon? Hey, buddy?”

Simon pukes once more, and then look up at Jake, black eyes and nose leaking the same black liquid, revealing just the barest hints of the whites of his eyes again. As if they were being  _ drained _ . He doesn’t speak, but Jake can tell he’s listening.

“You- you want me to help you, right?” Jake winces at the way his voice stutters. “Can you sit on the sofa for me?” His friend stares at him, coughs wetly, and them pushes himself backwards, wobbling on his knees, and drags himself up by his hands to get into a sitting position on the sofa like Jake asked him to.

“Okay, now, stay still, alright?” Jake uses the softest and gentlest tone of voice he could muster despite being scared shitless. He side steps all the black vomit and sits next to Simon’s left side, puts the gun down on his own left side, out of Simon’s reach, and grabs Simon’s hands and puts them behind him.

Thinking back to all the outdoor wilderness tutorials and classes he’s been to throughout the years, Jake ties the knot in a way that would have to be cut with a  _ knife  _ to get out of, and double ties it for good measure. All the while, Simon still spits and vomits and jerks around and cries and laughs and acts all possessed and shit but the latter two things are starting to calm down-

-and just when he thinks the worst of it is over, Simon starts speaking in fucking  _ tongues.  _ Just goes all for it, spitting and saying shit Jake doesn’t even think is translatable for humans and Jake considers gagging him but that would mean he would choke on his own vomit and suffocate.

So, Jake does the only thing he can think of: he pulls out his phone and calls his brother.

The dial tone beeps and beeps in his ear. “Please, pick up pi _ ck up pick up pick up- _ ” Jake pleads, and shortly thereafter, his prayers are answered by the sound of his brother’s voice, slightly annoyed.

“Jake, I told-”

“Edward, please come here.” Jake was almost crying alongside Simon now. He could tell Edward’s attitude completely changed in an instant.

“What’s wrong-”

“Edward please, don’t freak out, but I need you to come to my dorm  _ right now _ and don’t ask why.”

“Why-”

“Don’t ask why, please. Just- Just get here as quick as you can. I’ll have the door unlocked for you.” And then Jake hung up because Simon started speaking in tongues again after a brief lull and puking more black shit.

Grabbing the gun again, Jake slowly made his way to the front door, and unlocked it like he told Edward it would be. And because his curiosity got the better of him, he cracked the door open and looked up and down the hall.

Nobody was out there. Nobody was even poking their head out like the noisy little rich kids they were to listen to Simon throwing him around like a ragdoll and speaking in tongues. Slowly closed the door behind him, Jake turned to stare at Simon and just wonder  _ how  _ he got into this situation.

_ Some bullshit, that’s what it was. _

After a few moments of gazing at Simon in thought, the man in question picked his head up and looked at Jake with a volatile mix of emotions Jake couldn’t even begin to unwind.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry sorry sor-  **FOR WHAT?” ** Jake had no idea who or what he was talking to, but he just back up against the door, hand on the doorknob ready to run if needed be.

“Not you! Get out of my head-  **WHY? YOU NEED ME.”**

Simon vomited again.  _ Jesus, how much of that stuff did he have in him?  _

**“YOU WERE SICK. I MADE YOU STRONG. I MADE YOU BETTER.”**

“Screw you! I-I’d rather be sick than controlled by you!” 

A knock was heard, and silenced both Simon and the other not-Simon voice. Jake, wary of who was on the other side of the door, stood on his tiptoes to look through the peephole and see who it was.

“Jake?” The voice of his brother asked through the door, and Jake breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door for him.

“Thank God you’re here.” Jake breathed out, ushering his brother inside and locking the door tightly behind him after making sure no one else was around. “I didn’t know what to do-”

“Jake, what the…  _ fuck _ .” Edward had started out sounding aggravated and upset, but his toned trailed off to  _ shock _ as he took in the scene around him.

“What the fuck.” He repeated, uncharastically ineloquent for his nature. “Jake, what-”

“He’s possessed.” Jake whispered in… well, tried to whisper in his ear, but with him being 5’8 and his brother being 6’2, there was a big height and whispering discrepancy.

Edward scoffed. “Jake there’s no such…”

And then Simon vomited more smouldering black stuff.

“Okay.” Edward said aftera few moments of staring on in silent shock, putting his hands up in defeat. “Okay. I’ll play along. What the  _ everlasting fuck  _ do you think  _ I  _ can do about it?”

“I don’t know, Ed, okay?” Jake cried out, exasperated, wringing his hands together. “I guess we need to take him to the hospital-”

“Jake, why do you have a gun?” Edward asked, very serious.

Jake pulled a face. “It’s… Simon’s.”

“Wait- Jake, did he-”

“That’s why I want to take him to a hospital! I don’t know what to do with  _ that!” _

“If you want to take him to a hospital, then  _ why didn’t you call an ambulance?!”  _   
  


“Because  _ look at him!”  _ Jake outstretched his non gun-wielding hand to gesture at his roommate. Simon began speaking in tongues again. “Yeah, let’s call an ambulance and drag Simon and I out like this. And  _ you.” _

_ “We can leave.”  _ Edward hissed, but Jake shook his head.

“They’ll find out I’m his roommate. Imagine how  _ pissed  _ Dad is gonna be when he finds out about this. He’ll go on the whole spiel of  _ “you’ve damaged our family’s reputation” _ . Do you want to hear that?”

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, cradling his head in his thumb and index finger. He let go, and held his palm out towards the insane man on the couch. 

“Okay. Alright. Let’s take him to the hospital: how do you propose we do that?”

“Uhhh…” Jake deadpanned. “I was hoping we could put him in your car-”

_ “In my Rolls-Royce!?” _

“Yes, Edward, unless you want to call a  _ fucking cab _ ?”

**“FOOLISH MORTALS-”**

“OKAY!” Edward yelled, prompting another small vomit from Simon. “Okay-” Edward pointed a finger at Jake. “-but you’re paying for cleanup.”

_ Vain bastard.  _ Jake rolled his eyes. “Fine, just help me get him.” Neither of them moved for a second, until they both moved in unison, stepping over the puddles of blood and black vomit. Jake motioned for Edward to grab one of Simon’s tied arms while Jake stuck the gun in his waistband pocket, pulled his jacket over it, and hooked his hands into the crook of Simon’s other arm.

“Lift.” Jake said, and was surprised at how  _ lightweight  _ Simon was. It brought a shudder through Jake’s body when he remembered just how  _ hard  _ Simon choked him with what little muscle he had in him- and then  _ threw  _ him across the room. Thinking back, Jake can’t remember the last time he saw Simon eat more than a few, small bites of food.

Simon himself was easy to lift; it was the puking and occasional violent jerks and speaking in tongues and not-Simon voices that really put the brothers off and made it hard to walk him down the hall, into the elevator, and out into the lobby and chilly night air.

“Jake-” Edward grunts, pulling Simon upright when he jerks backwards. “-where is everybody?”

“Huh?” Jake enunciated like the smart rat bastard that he is.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit odd that Simon screams every 30 seconds  _ and no one came out to look?” _

“I was thinking of that, too.” Jake pushed Simon when he leaned on him and started sobbing. “Before I even got inside, there was nobody in the halls.”

“On a Friday evening at 7? Unheard off.” Edward sniffed, and  _ very begrudgingly  _ opened the back doors of his car, and helped to push Simon’s head down to clear the top of the car while Jake made sure Simon’s legs were in.

Both of the brothers got into their respective seats, and Edward pushed the start button on his car. Simon promptly vomited. Edward grimaced and bemoaned but Jake was having none of it. “Just drive, prissy pants.” 

Jake rubbed his face with his hands and was very thankful that the hospital was just three blocks away and Edward  _ floored  _ it there, arriving within less than as many minutes. Unfortunately, the pair was blessed with more vomit, jerking and incomprehensible language along the short journey that only made Edward more vain than he already was.

Edward pulled right up to the front entrance to the hospital, and put a hand on Jake’s arm when he tried to jump out of the car. 

“Let’s get our story straight first.” Edward held his finger up. “I dropped you off, and you found him profusely ill and vomiting and  _ like he is  _ and you don’t know  _ anything _ , and you just called me because I was still outside and I was the quickest way to the hospital, okay? Don’t talk about possession-” Simon puked again. “-or anything supernatural.  _ Nothing _ , okay?”

“I won’t say anything, but what about Simon?”

“Just tell the doctors he’s off his meds or something. Now get out and help me.” Edward, barely remembering to put the car in park and turn it off, jumped out of the car and yanked open the backseat door, and waited for Jake to come around and help pull Simon out of the car and up to the electric sliding glass doors of the hospital.

“Nurse!” Was the first thing Edward called out as they both dragged Simon inside. There were several nurses congregated around the front desk, and they all stopped their conversation and gasped, having various shocked reactions at Simon’s wild appearance, the new patient in question now switching back to his not-Simon voice.

“NURSES!” Jake yelled this time, much louder and strained with having to control Simon’s jerking. A nurse- the head nurse, most likely- rushed forward, a hand over her heart and reached out to push Simon’s head back to look at him. He may or may not have tried to bite her fingers. 

“Wh- what’s wrong with him?” Jake could tell this woman has seen a lot, but she’s not seen  _ this.  _

“I don’t know!” Jake exclaimed, playing into the role of ignorance. “We live together, and I came back this afternoon and he was like this!”

Simon vomited black stuff again, making the head nurse jump back as it landed on her lower legs and shoes. She screamed, and two more nurses came forward to grab Simon’s arms, while the other third one picked up her phone to call someone, probably and  _ hopefully _ an actual doctor. The receptionist just stared in shock, covering her mouth with her hand and not doing anything useful. 

Jake and Edward were pushed a step back when the other two nurses grabbed Simon’s arms, and the head nurse got over her shock and whirled around, looking for something and pointing at the brothers when she saw it.

“Go get that gurney!” She yelled, pointing to a bed with restraints on the side, and the two wasted no time in getting a hold of it and rolling over to the scene, helping the nurses get Simon on the bed enough to strap him down.

Which wasn’t easy, since that involved untying his arms to get them into the restrains and almost led to his escape. Once Simon- or whatever was inside of him- realized he was about to be seriously restrained and started  _ thrashing  _ violently, not caring who he hit or hurt in the process _ .  _ And speaking in a mixture of not-Simon and tongues was on the menu, as well.

After one particularly bad outburst, behind them the glass doors of the hospital entrance shattered and exploded, causing everybody  _ not  _ possessed to scream and shit themselves. 

Right after that, a male doctor followed by another nurse with a wheeling tray full of needles came running up to the scene. He barely had time to ask what was going on when he turned to the nurse behind him and ordered her to sedate Simon. Albeit rather reluctantly, she uncapped the smallest needle, and managed to maneuver around all of his thrashing to inject it into the side of Simon’s neck.

If she and the doctor were expecting Simon to fall unconscious immediately, they were wrong. In fact, he only struggled harder and the lights flickered and the power audibly surged with Simon’s renewed resistance. 

The doctor, seeing Simon’s increased agitation, reached for the largest needle on the tray and stabbed Simon in his neck again when he threased his head to the opposite side. This time, Simon’s voice immediately started to slur and become incoherent, but he still had enough energy to scream and thrash and bite at anybody who came close. The doctor exhaled loudly, and motioned for his nurses to wheel him towards the back of the hospital, telling them “This’ll hold him for a while. We’ll get him on something more powerful in the back.”

Once Simon was being wheeled past the first set of swinging doors, the doctor turned on the brothers, visibly shaken and out of breath. “You two mind telling me  _ what he’s on?” _

_ “ _ Zoloft.” Jake said. “He’s on 200 milligams of Zoloft.”

“Okay.” The doctor said. “I meant- any illicit drugs?”

“Not that I know. He knows he can’t have any of that while he’s taking it.”

“Are you sure?” The doctor asks, trying to be as nice to Jake as possible, despite him bringing someone like Simon in there. “Neither of you will get in trouble if you tell me.”

Jake didn’t believe that, and wouldn’t have told him if Simon had been taking drugs. “No, sir. I promise- I just came back to our dorm and found him like…  _ that.  _ He was sick and vomiting way worse than he was in here.”

“How did you get those bruises on your neck, son?” The doctor asked, and Jake didn’t like the way he said  _ son _ . But that was shoved to the back when he felt Edward hound on him and inspect his neck for himself.  _ Protective Big brother, much? _

“I… we got into a fight. He’s really out of it, Doctor, I don’t know what else to say; I can’t explain it.”

The doctor didn’t look like he believed him, but more screaming from the back drew his attention away from the Park duo, and he turned to the nurse still remaining at his side. “Would you have these two fill out a patient chart?” She nodded, and she shakily walked to the front desk and handed Jake a single clipboard while the doctor finished speaking with the two brothers.

“Would you two fill this out please for your friend? I have to go…” The doctor trailed off, and  _ ran  _ back towards where Simon was carted off to. The nurse he had left stood awkwardly for a second alone before she walked behind the receptionist desk and took up the now vacant role.

Holding the clipboard, Jake slowly turned around to look for a place to sit, and saw the entire lobby was vacant except for him, his brother, the nurse and a janitor who had been mopping the floor and now looked like he wanted to hand in his week's notice. Seeing shattered glass everywhere and in every seat in the lobby, Jake decided to stand at the receptionist desk to fill out the paperwork, which was relatively easy because he only knew the basics. Edward took the pen from him to fill out Simon’s parents’ contact information which he somehow knew and Jake didn’t have the energy to question.

Everyone was silent, until the nurse spoke up. “Are you okay…” The receptionist trailed off, looking at Jake and pointing at the bruises in a circle around his neck.

“Oh, I’m fine.” He just now realised that his voice was a little raspy, from either all of this yelling or being choked out. Probably both. “I just want to go home and rest.”

The nurse nodded. “You didn’t lose consciousness or-”

“No, ma’am, I just want to sleep all this off, is all.” Jake chuckled from the absurdity of  _ everything  _ that had happened within the past couple of hours. When Edward was done filling out the contact information, he slid the clipboard back to the nurse and thanked her for her time.

“I wrote down his father’s number, but he may be on vacation, so if you can’t reach him, I put down my bother’s-” He clapped Jake on the shoulder. “-number. If you have an update on Simon’s condition, please give him a call as well.”

“Yeah, we’re good friends.” Jake supplemented, nodding perhaps a bit too vigorously but he wanted to just  _ leave  _ and be  _ done  _ with all of this shit and sleep for the next decade.

Luckily, the nurse just nodded, accepting their responses and took the clipboard, standing up. “I’ll give this to the doctor. You two are free to go… I guess.” She seemed unsure, but shrugged. “Have a nice night.” Edward gave her a courtesy bow and Jake gave her a small wave and they both walked as fast as they could around the shattered glass all the way back to Edward’s car, hopping in and slamming the doors shut.

For once, Edward didn’t reprimand him for closing the door so hard.

“God.” Jake ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t wait to get back to your place and take a long ba-”

“ _ No _ .” Edward said firmly, looking forward as he started the car then turning to look Jake directly with his _ no nonsense _ voice.

The younger brother made a confused noise and opened his mouth to speak, but the elder beat him to it.

“You’re going to take me back to your dorm, and we’re going to find out  _ what the fuck just happened. _ ”

“What do you mean- you  _ know  _ what happened, Edwrad, you just don't want to say it.”

“Wh- Okay! He was  _ possessed _ , alright? There, I said it: Simon was possessed, and I want to fucking know why he puked up  _ black shit in the back of my Rolls-Royce!” _

“Alright! Geez, Sherlock, calm down. Just drive back to our dorm and we can… I don’t know, look for fucking Blues Clues or shit like that.”

“Fuck off.” Edward waved at him, running a hand through his own now messy hair, usually combed perfectly into place, unlike Jake’s.

  
_ ...would that me Steve and him Blue? Or vice versa? Or is he Steve and I’m Joe?  _ Jake’s really fucking tired to be thinking of shit like this.


	9. Hypothetical Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA I post again! When I was (cringing) reading my own writing on AO3 to keep up with my own plot, I hated the way it looked and was formatted, so I'm experimenting with it. ALSO, I know I keep promising Dwight will appear soon, but I already have the plot for the next chapter laid out and Dwight will be in it, and start to really be included in the next chapter and from there on out.
> 
> As always, thanks for your continued appreciated and support- trust me I read and look at it all and it keeps me chugging along! and its 1:30 am and i need to stop posting so late at night - so without further ado have a good night and remember to adjust ur screen brightness for the health of your eyes!
> 
> Warnings for: suicide mention, murder-suicide mention, vomit and vomit mention, Nazi talk and conspiracy theories, nightmares and some light questionable PTSD and abuse mention and a bunch of gossiping

The ride back to Jake’s dorm was silent. Dead silent. The word  _ dead  _ made Jake’s stomach lurch when the realization hit him that  _ he nearly died tonight.  _

...That must mean he was pretty clever to cheat death.

The thought made him grin and squirm in his seat, like he was the  _ smartest son of a bitch alive- _ Jake looked over to Edward to see if he had noticed his little victory dance but his brother was too busy gritting his pearly whites and gripping the wheel hard enough for the leather around it to creak to be paying attention to what Jake was doing.

He’s glad: that little dance he did was  _ embarrassing  _ and he never wanted to think about it again.

The silence that ensued as they pulled back up to the dormitory building was  _ deafening.  _ Jake had at least expected for the police to show up since he had given Simon’s address, or even the FBI or government vehicles to be swarming the area, but there was nobody there except them and that just made Jake even  _ more  _ unnerved than he already was.

Even Edward noticed how desolate the place looked. “I like peace and quiet.” He commented, turning off the car and opening his door. “But this is too much.”

“Yeah.” Jake agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt and wrapping his coat tighter around him as a gust of cold air greeted him when he opened the door, and chilled him to the bone. He thought about saying something probably borderline creepy about how  _ alone  _ they were out here, but this whole situation was already creepy  _ enough  _ for him to be making it worse, so he wisely kept his mouth shut and walked beside his taller brother as they re-entered the lobby, avoiding the drippings and puddles of blood and black vomit that had yet to be cleaned up.

And Jake repeated his observations out loud, earning him a noise of agreement from his brother.

Walking up to the elevator doors, Edward pressed the button to summon the elevator to their level but the doors instead automatically opened to reveal that the blood and black vomit had settled on the laminate floor of the elevator and gushed out once the floodgates holding it back were open.

The brothers jumped backwards in sync, and Jake had the wise suggestion of taking the stairs that Edward immediately aquestied to and pulled him along to climb the stairs as fast as they could, shoes leaving behind black vomit footprints all the way up the first flight of stairs.

Thank  _ God  _ the lights didn’t flicker, because Jake wasn’t sure his heart could’ve handled that right now.

Edward pushed opened the door that led to their floor, stepping off the stairwell and onto the carpet of the hallway-  _ the lights flickered god damn it! _

Jake stopped, a bolt of fear gripping his chest as the memory of coming down this hall just a couple of hours earlier played through his mind and for a few moments, he was actually back in time, walking down the  _ same exact hallway, ignorant of the danger that was awaiting him in his room- _

Sensing his brother stopping, Edward turned around to see his brother was clenching his jaw hard enough to break diamonds and his eyes were wide and transfixed onto the long expanse of the hallway before them.

“Hey.” He said, unusually soft, and reached out to grab his brother by his shoulder in a comforting move. “It’s alright; Big Brother is here to protect you. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”

Even as Jake rolled his eyes, his jaw and stance relaxed enough for Edward to say that he was successful in his comforting technique. “Fuck you. You would be scared shitless too if you were in there instead of me.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Edward murmured and  _ really, really _ meant it. He was actually impressed and proud that Jake was handling this as well as he was. Most people would’ve given into hysterics by now, but he knew his brother was tougher than that. “I was just offering to hold your hand while I walk you back to your room like I used to when you were younger..”

It was a miracle Jake didn’t get  _ dizzy  _ with how often and how hard he rolled his eyes. He was going to have to see a doctor soon if he didn’t stop. “Don’t forget, dipshit: you’re coming in there with me.”

Edward stood in front of the door and did just happen to realize that  _ yes _ , in fact, he  _ did  _ have to go in there. “I know that.” He spoke condescendingly, but with a touch of nervousness as well that he tried to play off by running his hands over the lapels of his coat, like he was cleansing his hands of any dirt and debris before touching the doorknob.

He kept doing it for a second too long, and he heard Jake huff in annoyance which just set him off.

“ _ Look- _ ” Edward wheeled around and leaned over, pointing his finger in Jake’s face which he knew the shorter man  _ hated.  _ All men hated to be pointed at. “You’re my little brother and I love you, so sue me for caring about why you nearly  _ died  _ tonight at the hands of your possessed roommate!”

Jake  _ hmmph _ ed, but the barest hit of a smile came over his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nosy.” He said, and let his arms fall back by his side. “Okay, then. If you love me  _ so much _ , then go in first.”

“I plan on to.” Edward said, and he did. Just… not right at that moment.

Jake stared daggers at the side of Edward’s head.

“Damn it all to hell.” Cursing to himself, Edward grabbed the door handle and twisted it, finding it unlocked and throwing it open, taking a step back with Jake in case there were any more  _ surprises  _ waiting for them inside.

The room was just how they left it: in disarray and bodily fluids everywhere.

Jake ducked his head underneath Edward’s outstretched arm from where he had put it over Jake  _ just in case _ , and looked around.

“Looks the same.” He remarked, and crouched his whole body underneath his brother’s arm and squeezed his shorter frame inbetween his brother’s lankier statue and the door.

Jake  _ immediately  _ stepped into a puddle of black vomit like a dumbass. His face scrunched up. “ _ Ew _ .” He stuck his foot out and tried to shake it off like water, but the liquid turned out to be a little bit stickier than he assumed it was, having the consistency akin to ragu but without the lumpiness. Jake realized that he would have to probably soak his shoes in bleach if he ever wanted to wear them again.

He’s just glad his sheepskin jacket didn’t get anything on it, but his pants were a different story.

“Okay.” Edward steps over the threshold as well, doing a better job than Jake did at avoiding the puddles. “Now, I want you to start at the beginning and tell me what the hell happened.”

Jake sighed. “I wish I knew, really.” Turning around to look for somewhere to sit, Jake failed to see any options available to him that wasn’t covered in blood, black vomit, or destroyed, so he opted instead to stand right where he was in-between the dorm door and the counters of the kitchen space, carefully closing the front door when he had decided where to stand.

“Well.” He began, the memories of it all still startlingly fresh but also blurry at the same time, especially during the time he was being choked out. “I opened the door-”

“Oh no, no, no.” His brother wagged his finger at him. “No-  _ before  _ that. Start at the moment you got out of my car after I dropped you off.”

One of these days, Jake’s eyes are going to roll out of his head if he keeps it up. “Okay,  _ well _ , I already told you that there’s nobody here- it was like that when I got inside the building. I didn’t really notice it until I got to my floor and the lights started flickering real creepily.”

Edward hummed, and walked into the kitchen area. He opened the fridge, inspected the contents inside, and then closed it. Jake took this as a sign that he was being nosy again and his eyes were actually starting to hurt now when he rolled his eyes.  _ Gotta stop that,  _ he thought. “There was this weird noise, too-”

“What kind of noise?” Edward was taking a look inside the hallway closet with the broken door.

“-don’t interrupt me, asshole. I- It was this like… scraping and growling noise. I thought it was an animal in the air vents, but I don’t know what the hell it could’ve been now.”

“Go on.” Edward mused, looking down the rest of the hallway like he was really Sherlock  _ fucking  _ Holmes. More like he was a  _ nosy bitch.  _

After noticing that the kitchen counter was exceptionally clean compared to the rest of the dorm, Jake decided to hop up on it after pulling down one of those travel-sized Dorito bags from the top of the fridge. He needed something to snack on to take the edge off. 

“So, immediately after that, I was about to turn back down the hallway and say  _ “fuck that” _ , but then I heard noises from inside my dorm and I thought  _ “well, I promised Simon I’d study with him” _ , so I went to put the key in the door and then I heard more noises- it sounded like Simon sobbing or crying. And then it sounded like something heavy was picked up or put down-”

“Probably the gun.” Edward commented, coming out of the hallway and gazing at the scene of the living space with his hands on his hips. He then turned to see Jake having a snack on the counter. “Now is  _ not  _ the time to be eating, Jake.”

“It’s healthier than the bottle of wine I know you’re going to be chugging down when you get home.” Jake spoke inbetween mouthfuls of Doritos, which Edward made a noise at and took very careful, measured steps around the couch to avoid the blood and black vomit while scrutinize the crime scene.  _ He’s been watching too many of those crime documentaries, again. _

He licked the cheese dust of his fingers like a savage. “Yeah, probably. But anyway, like a  _ dumbass-” _

Edward hummed in agreement.  _ Motherfucker- _

“-I unlocked the door, but!” Jake held a cheesy finger up “I didn’t step inside. I’m not  _ that  _ stupid. Anyways, as soon as I opened the door, Simon was sitting on the sofa and jumped up and pointed the gun at me.”

“I, of course, asked him what the  _ fuck  _ he was doing and… he looked  _ shocked _ , like he  _ really  _ didn’t expect me to show up. And he started saying something to that effect, but whatever what’s…  _ inside  _ of him took control and slammed the front door shut.”

Edward hummed again, inspecting the broken coffee table against the wall before Jake saw his head visibly tilt and he turned around to him. “Wait.” He looked confused. “I thought you said he was sitting on the sofa.”

“He was.” He popped another Dorito in his mouth before continuing. “He closed it with his  _ mind. _ ”

Edward stared at him, and then had the audacity to  _ chuckle.  _ “That explains why the glass at the hospital busted.” 

Jake thought that over for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Valid conclusion.”

Edward then pointed to the hallway door and then to the coffee table at his feet. “Did Simon do this with his  _ mind _ , too?”

Shaking the bag to shuffle its contents, Jake licked his fingers before answering. “He did the hallway door, but I think he just threw the coffee table with his hands. He was kinda… talkin’ crazy so much I didn’t pay attention to it.”

“You mean speaking in demon and shrieking?” Edward had taken a few steps away from the coffee table and had come over to Jake, eyeing his Dorito bag with a  _ look  _ that Jake took offense to.  _ Get your own. _

“Not then. It was like Simon had a little bit of control and was talking to himself and whatever it was inside of him.”

“What changed?” Edward spoke softly, extending his fingers towards the litany of bruises adorning Jake’s neck, but not touching it. His brother didn’t have to say anything else for Jake to know that he didn’t take Simon hurting him lightly, possessed or not.

“He started talking about crazy stuff that didn’t make any sense-”  _ yes it did, it made so much sense that Jake couldn’t,  _ ** _wouldn’t _ ** _ believe it _ “-and he kept getting closer and closer with the gun and I- he really,  _ really  _ was about to kill me, I thought, so I busted him in the side of his head with a glass vase. And I  _ might’ve  _ kicked him in the nuts.”

“How did he choke you, then?”

“The first time I went to grab it I missed. An-Actually, I didn’t miss: more of I almost grabbed it and he grabbed me by my neck and lifted me up off my feet.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “He picked you up  _ off  _ your feet?”

Jake nodded, and lifted the bag to his lips to jostle the last bits of crumbs into his mouth.

Over the rattling of the bag, Jake heard his brother made a noise of disbelief. “Telekinesis, super strength-”

“-amazing vomiting capabilities.” Jake interrupted before getting up to toss the small bag away and washing his fingers in the sink.

Edward put his hands on his hips. “Is that all? The gist of it, I mean.”

“Yeah, pretty much until you showed up. He stopped choking me after I kicked him in the stomach and then I smashed the vase over his head. After that, he started puking all this stuff-” Jake gestured to the black stuff everywhere “-and I managed to tie him up.”

“Where did you get the rope?” Edward asked.

Jake came back around the corner and stood in front of the hallway, putting his hand where the rope had been. “In here. Simon threw the door open and told me to help him, so I tied his hands.”

“I don’t get it.” Edward shook his head, following Jake to the closet. “Why is there rope in here?”

“I don’t know.” Jake pursed his lips. “Simon has been doing a lot of weird stuff lately. Maybe he had it to…”  _ Kill himself? Tie up someone?  _ He shook his head and canceled that train of thought. “...I don’t know.”

“But-” Jake started up again. “After he started choking me, he said I “ruined the plan” and started to say something else, like “the other” or “others” or something similar.”

“”The other?”” Edward rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Mmmm, you said that he said that you ruined his plan or whatnot? Maybe you weren't his intended target?”

“Or maybe he didn’t expect me to be home early.” Jake interjected with his own theory. “He was almost  _ encouraging  _ me to stay over at your place tonight.”

“Well, if he said  _ other,  _ that kinda implies that  _ you  _ weren’t the one he was after. Or  _ whatever  _ is controlling him.”

“But that doesn’t add up.” Jake paced back into the kitchen restlessly in thought. “I would’ve been home at least by noon tomorrow. And if he’d killed somebody, especially himself, I would’ve figured it out if I’d walked in and seen blood or a body. And- somebody would’ve heard Simon firing a gun and-”

“Isn’t there a silencer on it?” Edward asked, and then walked over to where Jake had been pacing and held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

Jake carefully pulled out the gun and put the safety on it, just in case, but he’s certain Edward knows how to handle a gun. His brother took a look at it, and yes, the long, sleek addition on the end of the gun’s actual barrel was a silencer. Edward turned it over in his hand and looked at the underside of the gun’s barrel.

“The serial number has been filed off.” Edward noted. “And it’s not anything special. I would say maybe I could trace it to whoever he bought it from and maybe get some more information, but I can’t now.”

“How would he be able to buy a gun?” Jake asked, really confused because even though Simon’s family was well-off and the man always had enough money for his food and school supplies, Jake couldn’t fathom how he got enough money in such a short amount of time to-

_ “I gave him $100.” _ He whispered to himself quietly as the realization sunk in that he inadvertently gave Simon the money to buy a gun to  _ kill  _ someone with- namely himself. He put his face in his hands and slid them up to pull at his hair. The younger of the brothers groaned aloud, frustrated beyond belief. “He told me it was for his sister’s birthday but I bet you anything he used it to buy the gun. I can’t believe he lied-”

“He didn’t lie.” Edward put a hand on his brother’s shoulders with a light squeeze to give him some sort of comfort. What little he could give. “He has a younger sister, Greta. That’s why I said his parents might be on vacation: I heard they were going to Bermuda for the weekend for her birthday.”

“They didn’t invite Simon?” Jake stated as a question but it sounded like a fact.

“No.” Edward said in a tone that Jake knew that Simon didn’t get invited to family vacations.

Edward then let go of Jake’s shoulder and walked back down the hall. “Which one is Simon’s room?” He asked, and Jake followed after him to grab at Simon’s doorhandle, already knowing where his brother was going with it. He found it unlocked, and informed his brother so as he gave it a gentle twist, and then jumped a step back and he swung the door open.

Nothing lept out at the two brothers: in fact, the room was just how Jake had always seen it, albeit a bit messer and rather unclean looking, very uncharacteristic of Simon’s unrelenting OCD nature.

“This is very unlike him.” Jake said in Simon’s defense when he felt his brother judging. “He has OCD and spends a lot of his time cleaning things over and over. Even this-” Jake picked up Simon’s Yale jacket thrown on the floor. “-he would bust a nut if he saw this on the floor.”

Looking around, Jake did Simon a favor and folded the jacket over a few times, and went to drape it over the back of his desk chair- and noticed the books Simon had been reading as of late stacked neatly and pushed away from the clear center of his desk. Gears clicking in his head, Jake slid the whole stack out and picked up the first one to show his brother.

_ “Cthulhu and Kin.” _ He put that down and picked up the next one.  _ “The Other Worlds.” _ And then another one.  _ “Alternate Us.” _ There were more, but Edward had leaned down to pick something up out of the waste bin and held it up in his hand.

It had to be pretty damn important for Edward to be putting his dainty hand in someone else’s garbage. “It’s a pill bottle.” He noted, twisting the orange bottle around, little pills inside jingling around. “It was prescribed back in the middle of February.”

“200 milligams?” Jake asked, forgoing the books to peer over Edward’s arm to look at the bottle.

“Yep.”

Jake shook his head in confusion. “But he’s taking his meds. He has to. If he doesn’t he’ll have bad withdrawal side effects.”

“The bottle is nearly full, though. There’s just a few pills missing- no more than a third.” Edward gave the bottle in his hand a good shake, then pocketed it in his coat pocket.

Then Jake remembered something pertaining to the current subject. “Sim- the possessed voice said that it made Simon not sick anymore. Do you think it made Simon stop taking his medication?”

“If it could do that without giving Simon the withdrawl effects, it would certainly show to Simon its power.” He patted where the bottle was in his pocket. “It should say on the bottle how many are in there, and we can count the difference later. Grab the books.” Edward instructed Jake, wanting to get the hell out of the dorm as soon as he could because even though he didn’t really believe in ghosts and demons and whatever the hell had happened this evening, he didn’t want to stick around in case there was anything else possessed that had a  _ bone  _ to pick with them.

Jake considered himself to be pretty strong, but the books weighed a ton and he had a hard time getting a grip on them. “Can you-?” He asked, and Edward quickly took the top two to help lighten Jake’s load.

Edward shut Simon’s door behind them as they both left, and started to make their way out of the dorm for the night when Jake suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Hey, I’m gonna put the books down for a second. I want to get a change of clothes and my charger out of my room.”

Sighing, Edward shifted the books to one hand and waved him on. “Alright, hurry up. I want to get out of here.”

“Trust me, I do, too.” Jake rushed back to his room and grabbed his satchel with his school stuff just incase he ended up staying past Sunday night  _ (which honestly at this point he never wanted to come back in this dorm again) _ , his phone charger and various other electronics, a few changes of clothes and another pair of shoes that he just all shoved into a duffel bag that he usually used for going to the gym, but at this point he didn’t care if he shoved it into his stinky gym bag- he wanted to peace the fuck out and be done with it.

He just wanted to leave here, go soak himself in his brother's mini jazzuci for the rest of the night and sleep until winter finally kicks the bucket-

“Jake?” His brother’s voice calls from the living room, and Jake can tell by the tone of his voice that he wanted him in there for whatever reason.  _ Now. _ Slinging his satchel and duffel bag over one shoulder, Jake quickly walks out into the living space to see Edward staring at the gray shag carpet that was always in the catacorner of the couches…

Or where it used to be. Presumably, his brother had rolled it away so that it set in a lump in the corners of the sofa, revealing an odd and almost indescribable symbols on the ground, drawn in the same black stuff that Simon had been puking up earlier.

Jake knew it wasn’t a pentagram, but it certainly looked like something to summon demons with. 

Jake was too religious, but he did  _ not  _ deal with this type of shit. Speaking in tongues? Bearable. Vomiting black shit? He’ll clean it up later. Drawing demonic symbols on the ground to summon evil.  _ No fucking thanks. _

The smaller of the two men started to bounce on the balls of his feet. “Why did you have to pull up the carpet?” And  _ no _ , he did not just  _ whine  _ that out. He was a grown-ass man  _ he did not whine _ .

“I know a guy in forensics.” Edward  _ knew  _ somebody in every department and he  _ loved  _ to say so. “I was going to cut a piece of carpet so he could tell us what this stuff is.” Even though he wasn’t bouncing on his feet like Jake had been, Edward was just very much upset and unsettled by the drawing on the ground. 

Against his better judgement, Jake ends up stepping into a small pool of blood and black vomit in order to see the drawing more clearly, and peers around his brothers’ arm and sees him holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a piece of carpet in a small, plastic bag in the other. The plastic was sticking to the blackened carpet like it was too hot and borderline melting it.

“I got my stuff.” Jake said, quickly switching topics and grabbing up his designated books again. “Let’s go.” He was already out the door and heading down the still desolate hallway by the time Edward had carefully maneuvered around the black puddles, turning off the lights and locking the dorm behind him. 

***

_ He’s running. Jake’s running as fast as he can but it’s not fast enough. There’s this giant, brown and metal spiked  _ ** _monster_ ** _ chasing him with a machete and he’s running as fast as he can- _

_ It’s not fast enough but Jake throws down something he feels like he’s tossed a million times and it stuns the beast for a moment, allowing Jake to gain distance away from it. _

_ He’s running, running with a goal he can’t put into words in his mind and then he runs into the terrified form of Dwight Fairfield, huddled into some kind of a dark corner of an oddly shaped brick wall, and Jake feels like he’s done this a million times- and so had Dwight. He knew this as a fact. _

_ Dwight- he felt a sharp pang of sympathy pain when he sees Dwight’s lower leg: bloodly, broken and horribly mangled. It’s clear to Jake that Dwight had just managed to haul himself in his little corner to  _ ** _hide_ ** _ . _

_ Jake can feel the monster coming, he doesn’t know how but he can tell. So he quickly bends down to Dwight’s level and kisses him on the lips, chaste and desperate. _

_ “Stay quiet.” He whispers painfully, as if it takes every ounce of strength in his body to say those words (as if he can’t speak at all). _

_ Tears of pain streaming downs Dwight’s face, he smiles back with gut-wrenching affection and croaks out “I love yo-” _

Jake shoots up and hits his wrist on something so hard it makes him yelp in pain and collapse backwards.

His mind is swimming between that place of dreams and the waking world, mixed with a throbbing wrist and a sore throat. The dream is still forefront in his mind and it felt  _ so real  _ but yet it didn’t feel like it was. If Jake didn’t know any better, he might’ve guessed it was some sort of memory, but that was impossible because that’s  _ never  _ happened before. His brain is still trying to figure out if he was awake or asleep when his phone starts ringing and for some reason beyond his intelligence, Jake knows that’s what woke him up in the first place.

Rubbing his eyes and wincing at the throbbing subsiding in his wrist, Jake rolls over and blinks away the dryness of sleep and peers at the number on his phone. He doesn’t recognize the number, but caller ID designated it as the Yale-New Haven Hospital. 

Jake wonders for a few moments why the  _ fuck  _ the hospital is calling him but then he remembers last night.

His fingers and his nerve impulses are struggling to function so early in the morning, but Jake manages to hit the green button and put the phone up to his ear.

“‘Ello?” He slurs, rubbing a hand over his face to  _ wake the fuck up they’re calling about Simon. _

_ “Mr. Park?”  _ A woman answers him, and he vaguely matches his voice with the nurse he filled out the paperwork with at the hospital last night after Simon had been wheeled away.

“Yeah? Is- is this about Simon?” He asked, raising up on one hand to sit up in his bed- his brother’s guestroom bed that he had let him crash on- and felt the blood rush to his head as he did so too fast, making his temples throb along with his wrist.

_“Yes. We, uh, tried calling Mr. Ziegler’s parents with the number your brother gave us, but we kept going to a voicemail._ _We’re calling you to tell you that Mr. Ziegler is in the ICU in the Isolation Ward.”_

“Oh, thanks.” At least he’s  _ alive _ , and Jake can’t ask for much more. “Is he al- can we visit him?”

_ “I- Not personally, not until he’s out of the Isolation Ward, no, sorry. He’s also under a medically induced coma, so you wouldn’t be able to talk to him anyways. You could come by and  _ ** _see _ ** _ him, but it would be through another room.” _

As Jake was listening, a set of shuffling steps were heard coming down the hallway, and Jake watches as the lanky and drowsy form of his brother comes to a wobbling standstill in his doorway, listening to Jake talk but also holding his head and blocking out the dim sunlight streaming through the partially open windows.  _ I told him not to drink so much, idiot. _

“Well-” Jake had gotten momentarily distracted by his brother wobbling into his room, but quickly regathered his train of thought when he realized the woman on the other end had gone silent. “-alright, I’ll- I’ll come up and see him anyways.”

_ “Visiting hours start in half an hour. Your friend is in room IW-104, third floor, get off the elevator and take a left. They’ll be a big sign for the Isolation Ward and you go down that separate hallway, you can’t miss it.” _

_ Try me, motherfucker.  _ “Thanks very much- also, can-can you tell me  _ why  _ Simon’s in a medically-induced coma?”

_ “Uh, well…”  _ The nurse on the other end of the phone trailed off, and a small shifting noise was heard on the other end of the line and then her voice was back, whispering like she was telling him a juicy secret.

_ “My cousin was the head nurse on duty- she was there when you brought Mr. Ziegler in. She told me that he only got worse when we got him back there and after you left. She said that he actually broke through the restraints and nearly snapped the security guard’s neck when he tried to subdue him. He’s fine- the security guard- but we had to give your friend enough drugs to put down a horde of elephants. Eventually, the doctor ordered him to be put into a medically induced coma because he kept waking up, no matter how many doses we gave him. She’s not on the clock to watch your friend anymore- but she heard that he was also put under because he had other serious health complications. I don’t know what they are, sorry. The doctor will have to tell you that.” _

“That’s fine. Thanks for calling.” Jake listens to the woman tell someone on the other side to please hold for a moment, and then she whispers back  _ “And you didn’t hear this from me.” _

“Yes, ma’am.” And then the line was hung up from the other end. Jake let his hand holding the phone fall to the sheets, phone bouncing out of his hands and onto the indent of his lap in front of him as he hung his head for a moment before looking up into the slightly bloodshot and expectant eyes of his brother, now coming to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I presume he’s still alive?” Edward muttered groggily.

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s in the ICU Isolation Ward in a mentally induced coma.”

“Damn.” Edward replied, then laid back sideways on the bed, running his hands into his hair and pulling the strands loosely. “_Oh_ _God_, if you weren’t so involved in this, Jake, I swear, I would tell you to just go find another friend.”

“Edward.” Jake admonished, reluctantly pulling back the covers from his own body to throw them on top of his hungover brother. Stretching and popping his joints as Edward thanked him for turning out the lights, Jake let a small laugh escape him while he walked over to his duffel bag and dug out a random set of clothes to put on. He knew his brother would bitch to him that the outfit didn’t match- but Jake didn’t care about matching; he just wanted to be warm and comfortable wearing it.

Pulling his clothes off after checking to see Edward was still under the covers, Jake first pulled his sleeping t-shirt off and got a brief sideways look at the bruises in the shape of fingertips on his neck in the dresser mirror. They were sore and painful even to a light touch, and it felt like he had a sore throat but without the cold or flu to go with it. They were also turning into a red-purplish color and looked like he either got some serious hickeys or some BDSM shit gone a bit too extreme.

He slid his other shirt on quickly after that, and then pulled his sleeping pants off and saw red marks on his lower thighs and shins and, when he slipped off his shoes, his feet as well. It looked like he had been out in the hot sun for an hour too long, and it actually  _ felt  _ like a sunburn when he touched it. Explains why his legs aren’t as cold as usual.

Putting his fresh pants on, Jake turned around when he heard Edward lightly snoring. Pouting, he reached for his pillow and gave the lump of his brother under the sheets a good few whacks to wake him back up.

It was super effective. “Get up- we’re going to see Simon.”

“ _ Ghhmmm- _ why? He’s in a coma. He can’t talk to us.” Edward still didn’t take the covers off of him, so Jake did it for him and his brother hissed as the light from the sun burned him like a vampire.

Jake rolled his eyes. _Drama queen._ “The nurse said Simon had other health complications and we have to go there and find out what they are. She couldn’t tell me over the phone.”

“Now?” Edward groaned, but finally sat back up and pushed himself upright into a standing position.

Jake grabbed his phone from inbetween the entangled bed sheets. “Visiting hours start at 8. I want to get there as soon as we can. I-I would feel bad if Simon died and I didn’t go and see him.” The last part was spoken softly, and full of emotions that Jake denied was the cause of his throat clogging up.

He hears Edward without seeing him as he walked out of the room and down his hallway, grumbling about strong coffee while Jake breaks off to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth and  _ attempts  _ to brush his hair. He gives up when there's a knot behind his ear he can’t get out, choosing to clip it off instead with a small pair of scissors.

When he emerges from the bathroom after wiping away his hair that had fallen all over the sink from the Great Hair War of 2020, he finds Edward, considerably less hungover and hugging his mug of coffee in one hand and nibbling on some freshly toasted toast in the other over a small plate.

_ Like he’s fucking royalty. _ But it makes Jake’s stomach rumble and he has to force himself to put two more slices of bread in his brother’s toaster instead of rushing to go see Simon and get a small plate for himself because if he doesn’t have breakfast, he’s as good as dead. Once it pops out and Jake slaps a little bit of butter and cinnamon on it for that extra boost of energy, he takes his small plate and sits across from Edward, and they eat mostly in silence.

Until Jake speaks up. “I told you not to drink so much, Ed.”

“I told you not to call me Ed- you’re lucky you’re my brother.”

Jake chuckles around his toast. “We’ve never really listened to each other much. Probably why we fight so much.” Finishing off one whole half-sandwich of cinnamon toast, Jake hesitates in picking up his second when a distant thought crosses his mind.

“Hey.” He starts, stops when Edward look at him, then finds his words again. “You said Simon’s sister's birthday was this weekend, right? Why didn’t he go along?”

Edward put down his mug of coffee, and clasped his hands together on the table in front of him and leaned forward like they were  _ gossiping teen girls _ . “You promise not to say anything about what I’m about to tell you? I’m serious, Jake- don’t repeat this or let Simon know you know this, okay?”

Edward  _ did  _ love to talk shit about other people, and he was rarely,  _ rarely  _ wrong about it. Jake resisted the urge to squirm in his seat at the  _ secrets  _ he was about to find out.

“Well.” Edward began, eating his second to last piece of toast. “You remember I told you Simon’s father is Lars Ziegler?”

Jake nodded.

“I’ve met him several times before. I believe you have too, and you’d probably recognize him if you saw him- and you remember I told you he was German, right?”

Jake nodded again. “You said he practically inherited Volkswagen.”

“He did- well, his great-grandfather was one of the men who put a good chunk money down for it to keep it running and drew up a lot of plans for the designs, and kept it going throughout the years. And, um, I know you like history, but do you know how Volkswagen was founded?”

He shook his head.

“It was founded by the German Labour Front in 1933.”

Jake blinked, his still-sleepy brain slowly putting two and two together until it  _ clicked _ . “1933? Isn’t-”

“The Nazis? Yeah.”

Jake blinked again, resembling an owl with his wide stare and measured blinks. He leaned back in his seat as all the wires uncrossed in his brain and began firing correctly. He put his hands up while his elbows were still on the table. “Hold on. Hold the fucking phone: are you saying Simon’s a  _ Nazi?” _

Edward rolled his eyes. _ “No _ , Simon is  _ not  _ a Nazi. He wouldn’t be friends with you if he was. Either that, or he’s the world’s greatest actor, which I highly doubt. But his father is a different story. He’s... well… I don’t think he’s a full-fledged Nazi either, but he certainly believes that the  _ “invalid”  _ or mentally ill should be more or less removed from society. I’ve heard him talk about Simon before to other… like-minded people, and he’s not an exception to that philosophy. From what I’ve gathered, Lars has had Simon on many drugs for his  _ “issues” _ to the point where’s he’s almost dependent on them, and makes him feel like he’s  _ blessed  _ to have a caring father like him shoving medicine and therapy down his throat, even though he’d rather not have him as a son at all.”

_ Oh.  _

Jake got the message, and his stomach curled when he thought about all of what Simon had said, both possessed and non-possessed about how his father  _ controlled  _ him. Jake sickeningly wondered how it must feel living with you father when you know he feels like  _ that.  _ It made his own issues with his father seem like a minor disagreement compared to that revelation.

To know that your father would rather have you removed from society than take care of you, and fucks with your mind like that…  _ God, that’s just- _ “Damn.” Jake said, slumping back into his chair with his thoughts racing with all the little things Simon’s said to him over their friendship together. It all made sense and fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle so easy Jake felt  _ stupid  _ for not really noticing it earlier. “Is that why-”

“Probably.” Edward finished for him, already knowing what Jake was going to ask. “His little sister, Greta, has blond hair and blue eyes and no mental or physical illnesses, so you can see why they would take her on vacation to Bermuda for her birthday while they didn’t invite Simon.”

“On purpose?” Jake asked, and Edward nodded and finished off the last piece of his toast and drowns in it coffee. The younger of the two had thought about eating more, but his stomach was still sour after hearing that information so he decided to clean off his plate and set it in the dishwasher. As he goes to close the door to the appliance, Edward slips his coffee mug and plate next to Jake’s and they both take turns washing their hands in the sink afterwards.

Edward goes to grab his keys to his car when Jake makes a noise. “You sure you’re sober enough to drive?”

“I only had wine last night, I’m fine.” He comments, and slips his jacket on and pockets his phone, and waits for Jake to put his jacket and shoes on and to grab his phone before Edward locks his apartment behind them and whispers in Jake’s ear:

“You better hope you can wash the vomit out of my car or you can forget buying that Camry.”

Jake rolled his eyes and gave his brother a small shove. “Oh, fuck off.”


	10. Deepthroating an expensive wine glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA I wanted to make this chapter a little bit longer bUT- I've started an IRL job and I've got a commission I need to do next, so the next chapter will be delayed for a little bit. I don't really like how this chapter went in terms of how I wrote it, but once again I'd rather have it shorter and easier to correct than long and messy.
> 
> Dwight lives! And after this chapter he will become a main feature, as promised.
> 
> Once again, many thanks for ur lov and support, and i throw it back at ya! WIthout further ado, enjoy!
> 
> Warnings for: the stuff before, Jake having mild internal crisises and hospitals. theyre stinky.

The hospital is a short but  _ uncomfortable  _ drive away, mainly due to the brain-rattling line of thought stuck in Jake’s head.

Everyone is just… going about their business as usual, meanwhile his friend was  _ possessed  _ just last night and the world goes on. Like, yeah,  _ no big fucking deal _ , right? People just going on with their lives, meanwhile there’s a demon or something that’s possessed his friend, maybe even running around loose, freed from Simon- and there may be  _ more  _ of them.

This must be what one of those people who’ve said they’ve seen aliens or Bigfoot feels like. Like they  _ know  _ what they saw but they feel  _ crazy  _ at the same time. And the implications of this- like what else is out there? Is it all gonna flock to him now that he’s had this experience-?

For once, Jake is relieved to be around  _ people  _ in a  _ hospital _ because it quiets his extensital crisis going on in his mind that’s starting to make him feel weird and not quite all there.

The glass doors- or where they would be if  _ Simon  _ hadn’t happened- were covered in transparent plastic and all the broken glass was cleaned up off the floor. The nurse from last night and from the hospital call this morning is still at the front desk. Remembering his manners, Jake gives her a small smile and a courtesy nod.

“Hello, ma’am.” He says, very politely. “We’re here to see Simon Ziegler.”

She nods, and Jake approaches close enough to see the beginnings of dark circles under her pretty blue eyes. “I figured as much. You can just sign in right here.” She gives a clipboard on the desk a nudge towards the brothers. “You remember where I told you to go?”

Jake nods and signs his name in the ledger. “Third floor, right?” 

“Yes, sir. And take a left, and there will be a big sign down a side hallway.”

“Got it.” Jake hands the clipboard off to his brother, who scribbles his name under Jake’s and slides the clipboard back to the nurse with a level of dignity and grace that could only be achieved through privileged upbringing.  _ And showing off. _ “Have a nice day.” Jake offers to the nurse/receptionist as he motions for Edward to follow him around the front desk and down the hospital hall, back towards where they had watched Simon get carted off to last night. 

“You too. I hope your friend gets… better.” Jake hears the slight pause in her retreating words, and it just makes him want to see Simon worse. It dawns on Jake as he pushes through the large wooden doors that it was honestly a  _ miracle  _ that Simon was still alive at all. Simon was clearly stronger than he looked.

“Hey.” Edward whispers to him, breaking him of his internal thoughts while they both made a beeline for the elevator just beyond the double doors. “Do you remember the doctor’s name? I was so caught up in everything I forgot to look at his nametag.”

Thankfully, it’s a short walk to the elevator and it’s already been summoned by a few ragged-looking people in civilian clothes. “No, I didn’t either. But we know what he looks like.” They enter the elevator without any incident and they don’t  _ talk  _ to each other anymore while they’re in an enclosed metal box surrounded by people who  _ don’t know. _

_ But boy,  _ they sure do talk about it like they do.

“I heard it was a gang shooting.” A man said, but Jake couldn’t tell who or which one since he and Edward had shoved themselves in the back corner as far away from everyone else as possible as soon as they had entered. “They just shot out that glass, not carin’ who was inside-”

“It would have to be one hell of a bullet.” Another man said. “Those doors are made out of real thick Plexiglass- It would have to be AR or some shit to shot thru that, and they’d have to shoot at it for a while.”

“Don’t think it was bullets.” A woman interjected. “They would’ve killed or hit somebody, and there ain’t no bullet holes anywhere.” Someone hummed in agreement, and before anybody else could input their valuable opinion, the doors of the elevator opened to, thankfully, the third floor and everybody except for an older couple exited the lift and split off into various directions. The moment Jake felt the weight and presence of so many  _ ignorant  _ people leave his immediate area, he let out a breath he was holding.

“To the…” Jake looked left, then right, then left again. “...left.”

“You know where the ICU is?” Edward asked, making sure Jake just wasn’t leading him on a wild goose chase. The younger of the two was  _ known  _ for being stubborn when it came to admitting he didn’t have the slightest clue where he was going.

“Third floor, to the left, big sign down a separate hallway. Can’t miss it.” Jake repeated, quickly striding down the pearly sterile-smelling hall, swinging his head back and forth to keep an eye out for the large sign for the ICU-

Jake was looking so intently that he walked a few steps past it before he realized that he had went right by the large sign for the ICU. Like a  _ clinical  _ dumbass.

“Here.” He muttered as he backtracked, willing the flushing red of embarrassment that stained his cheeks to not be as prominent as it felt, though he’s not sure that it worked by the noise his brother made at his side. Taking his hands out of his jacket pockets, Jake pushes open the large double doors that separated the ICU from the rest of the hospital and holds them open for his brother and a randomly passing thru nurse.

The ICU, despite the many nurses and doctors on staff and milling about, was really quiet except for the continuous humming and beeping of various monitors and machines that no doubt kept the many patients residing here alive and breathing.

The feel of the place was kinda erie but also comforting in a sense to Jake: if Simon decided to randomly wake up, at least there would be a bunch of people around to help him. Although…  _ helping  _ may not be used in such a positive connotation in that situation.

“Where’s the Isolation Ward?” Edward asked in a low voice, looking around for any obvious directional signs.

“We can ask the front desk people.” Jake suggests, and he watches his brother nod and walk up there for him and  _ without him _ , telling Jake that  _ “I’ll flatter them with my superior social skills”. Show-off. _

While standing in the middle of the main area like an abandoned child, Jake takes an opportunity to pull out his phone and check the time and his notifications.

8:13. Breaking News notification for his area. Weather Update.  _ Whatever cologne that doctor was wearing that passed by needed to be recalled.  _ Reddit notification for a cute cat that Jake couldn’t help but press the Save button for the later. There’s an unread email message from his school that he doesn’t get a chance to read because Edward says his name and moves his fingers in a “come hither” motion. 

Jake sighs and pockets his phone, and walks towards his brother who’s already walking around the main desk and off towards the right side of the ICU.

“It’s past these double doors down here.” This time, Edward holds the door open for Jake, and Jake mocks bows in gratitude. He gets a huff of aggravation in return for his overzealous humility, even though Jake thinks he’s done a pretty good job at keeping it lowkey.

If the ICU was quiet, the Isolation Ward was  _ silent _ except for the same humming and beeping from the ICU and more official-looking and dressed people milling about, with the addition of several security guards walking around and one or two posted at opposite ends at the hallway. It seemed this section was taken far more seriously than the regular ICU, and the security guards here had guns,  _ real guns _ to boot. 

Walking down the hall, Jake pulled Edward to a stop at the door labeled  _ IW-104 _ , and got his first look at his comatose friend through an extremely thick pane of huge Plexiglass, complete with a guard watching them just a few feet away, inbetween the end of the glass that gave a view to Simon’s room and the closed door of whoever his neighbor was. 

It was like they were guarding a high profile serial killer, not a nearly bone-thin young man who was usually too busy cleaning and having tics to think about hurting people-  _ but last night proved different-  _ shut up.

“Wow.” Edward said, getting a good first look of Simon as well. “Even though he was possessed, he looked better when we brought him in than he does now.”

And his brother was right. Simon was so pale that his skin had a greyish tone to it except for large red splotches marring his skin beneath white bandages on various parts of his body, a breathing tube shoved inbetween his lips and hooked up to so many wires that attempting to count them made Jake’s eyes cross. There were numerous IV’s hooked up to him, and when Jake tried to follow the source of the IV in his arm, he discovered that next to the hanging fluid bag, there was a hanging blood bag that was connected to Simon as well.

“Wh-” Jake started, but then the puzzle pieces clicked. He pointed at the blood bag in question. “Is he having a blood transfusion?”

“Huh?” Edward articulated, and then followed Jake’s finger to the blood bag. “Or else he’s become a vampire.”

“...honestly I’d take him being a vampire over being a demon-”

“Are you two here to see Mr. Ziegler?” A voice sounded behind the two, and the brothers whirled around to see the doctor from last night striding up to them, holding a light yellow folder in his hand with a few sheets of paper sticking out incongruently. His white cheeks were flushed with a dusting of pink and he was breathing heavily through his lips, his graying and receding hair flapping with how briskly he walked towards them.

It may just be because of last night, but the doctor looked ready to retire at any moment. “Yeah, how is he?” Jake spoke up first as the doctor came to a halt before the two brothers.

“He’s uhh…  _ alive _ , to say the least.” The doctor looked around, as if checking to see if anybody was around to eavesdrop on their conversation, and as it had been when Jake first walked in, there seemed to be people passing by them nearly every 10 seconds. 

Apparently to the doctor, it was too busy for his liking, and he shuffled the folder to his other hand and waved the brothers on to follow him as he turned on his heel and walked towards another part of the Isolation Ward. “We can discuss this in my office.”

He didn’t give the brothers any room to argue, so they followed him down to the very end of the Isolation Ward hallway without argument, and then took a right to a much shorter hallway filled with offices. The doctor led them to the third door on the right, and held his office door open for him, with the name “Dr. Harold Howells” printed on a small plaque, gorilla glued to the door, that reflected off the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

_ Harold Howells, huh? Sounds stereotypical. _

“Have a seat, gentlemen.” Dr. Howells offered, sitting down in his own swivel chair and motioning for the brothers to sit in plush office chairs right across from his desk. Jake sat down first, taking the seat furthest away from the door and Edward took the seat closest to the doctor, putting one knee over the over and crossing his hands over them.  _ So prim and proper- don’t forget to take the stick out of your ass. _

Jake just barely resisted the urge to not roll his eyes, lest the doctor gets the bright idea that he has some sort of mental disorder and stuffs him into an MRI tube or something. “Thank you two for meeting with me here. I would’ve talked about this subject out in the hallway, but…” The doctor trailed off, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, and didn’t speak again until he poked a picture of him and a woman taken in front of some pretty beach scene  _ (presumably his wife, given how she looked as old as him)  _ with a knobly index finger. 

His desk was surprisingly clean for a doctor that looked as busy as he was, the main features of his desk being a thin monitor and keyboard, a small plastic shelving unit that contained even more files, a plaque nearly identical to the one on the doctor’s door sitting neatly on the front center of his desk, one of those large desk calendars, and a pen holder with way too many pens in it. One man shouldn’t need that many pens.

“...I’m sure you saw how Mr. Ziegler- is it alright if I call him Simon?” Dr. Howells asked, and Edward referred to Jake, who nodded in agreement. “Thank you- how Simon was acting when you brought him into the hospital, correct?”

The brothers nodded.

“Well… I’ve been a doctor here for 19 years. I worked in the Doctors without Borders programs in several Middle Eastern and African countries in my hayday years and I’ve seen a lot _ , a lot _ , of strange and odd cases of patients acting wild and out of control, and they’ve always had a medical explanation for their actions. But in the combined 40 years that I’ve been a doctor, I’ve never,  _ never _ \- seen anything like that, and I don't have a medical explanation for how Simon acted. From his speech, to his vomiting or for the…  _ odd  _ explosion of glass out in the front lobby.”

Dr. Howells paused to clear his throat, twiddling his thumbs some more. “I’ve run every test I could imagine on him, and nothing came up as a possible explanation, not even a simple common cold or a flu or something major such as meningitis . Now, are you both his friend or-?” The doctor asked, looking both at them expectantly and Edward spoke up for the pair.

“My younger brother, Jake, is his friend.” He pointed at Jake just to make sure the doctor knew who he was referring to. “They share a dorm in college. I just know him thru Jake and meeting Simon’s family a few times.” 

Jake spoke up, unsure of what to say but itching to say something. “I’ve never seen him act like that, either.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Dr. Howells let out a strangled chuckle, and looked at the photo of his wife again. Jake noticed just the slightest tremble in his fingers. “After I found out the didn’t have a viral or bacterial or parasitic infection, I them thought that he had some sort of drug overdose, but all the tests came back negative. I believe you wrote down that Simon takes Zoloft, Mr. Park?” The doctor asked Jake.

“Yeah, 200 milligrams.” Jake confirmed.

“Only trace amounts showed up in his bloodwork, just enough to indicate he’s taken it within the past four weeks.” Jake had already had his suspicions with Simon and his medicine when he and Edward had found the pill bottle, but decided to play ignorant to not further complicate matters.

“Are you sure?” He asked, furrowing his brows together. “I’ve seen him take it recently, like within the past couple of weeks.”

“Whatever he was taking, it wasn’t Zoloft, unless you’re remembering incorrectly- which I’m not saying you are or calling you a liar. People often times gets time and events mixed up when it wasn’t important at the time.” Dr. Howells put his hands up in a defensive gesture, trying to quell down any indugnance Jake might’ve had at being implied a liar before continuing on with his findings.

“Before I discovered that there was no medication in his system, I thought maybe he had a reaction with taking Zoloft with anything else, but nothing else showed up in his system. Not even a Tynelol. In fact, he’s very  _ underweight  _ and on the verge of being malnourished, if not already so. He hasn’t eaten anything considerable in at least 72 hours. I looked for any disease or abnormality, but nothing. There is absolutely  _ no medical reason  _ I can see for Simon actions or symptoms.” The doctor repeated, and wrung his hands together for a moment or so, before he started speaking again.

“I have him in the Isolation Ward because after we wheeled him away from you two, he started acting worse, if that’s even possible. Inbetween…  _ whatever  _ else he was saying, he started saying very  _ disturbing  _ things. He was saying Jake’s name- I believe my nurse told me you’re Edward?” Dr. Howells pointed at Edward, and he nodded. “He said you name a few times, also someone named Cameron and Dwight-”

“Dwight?” Jake sat up straight suddenly, hands gripping the sides of his chair and nearly sliding off the edge of his seat. He held his position for a whole two seconds before he realized that he was  _ severely  _ overreacting and really making a fool out of himself and relaxed. “What did Simon say about D-everyone?”

“Well…” The doctor started, paused, then got up without another word and made sure his office door was locked before then quickly coming back to sit down in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. “About Jake- he mostly started talking about how you  _ “ruined his plans” _ and how he was  _ “so close” _ in getting you.”

“Getting me?” Jake asked, opening his mouth to say more until the doctor put his hand up to stop him. 

“He repeated that or along those lines until we managed to get him sedated enough to actually wheel him back into the Isolation Ward and strap him down so that he wasn’t a threat anymore. After he saw that he was restrained, the head nurse,  _ God Bless her nerves of steel _ , thought it was a good idea to try and engage Simon in  _ “civil conversation” _ while me and the other nurses decided just what to do to him.”

“And that’s when he started saying the names of other people?” Edward asked, sitting more upright now as well.

“Yes. And- are you sure you two want to hear this? It’s very, very disturbing and dark and quite honestly, it would probably upset you to hear it. It upset the head nurse very much, and I had to send her home for a few days because of it.”

After sharing a brief look, the brothers nodded in unison, mentally bracing themselves for what the doctor could possibly say to them.

“She told me the summary of what he said, and I heard bits and pieces of it while I was going inbetween tending to your friend and running tests. She said that he said that, inbetween speaking foreignly and vomiting... that he was  _ “host” _ to an entity that was trying to  _ “collect” _ Jake. She said he also implied that he was trying to  _ “collect” _ this Dwight fellow as well, and that he was going to kill someone named Cameron to achieve this goal.”

After the doctor was done talking, nobody spoke or moved or made any noise otherwise. The only sound that was audible was the ticking of the analog clock hanging on the wall behind and above the doctor that Jake found himself staring at for far too long. The words the doctor said raced in his mind, and how things were starting to look more and more like Simon was really,  _ really  _ possessed and not just having a bad reaction to his medication like he had been secretly hoping for all along.

But no, apparently there was a demon after him and Dwight because  _ his life was just like that huh.  _

Edward, clearly not pleased that some demon was trying to snatch his brother, uncrossed his legs in favor of tightly crossing his arms over his chest, a move that Jake knew meant that he was  _ pissed.  _ “Did she report anything else?” Edward asked, tight-lipped and nostrils flared.

Dr. Howells looked to the side in thought for a moment, then put a finger up and pushed his chair back to open a desk drawer to his lower right. After a moment of rustling, he sat back up, rolled his chair back to his desk, and handed Edward a single piece of paper. “I normally don’t do this, at _ all _ , but here’s the statement I had her take. It’s policy at the hospital for nurses and doctors to take statement when the police are involved or when there’s an extremely…  _ unique  _ case for future discussion.”

“Wait- did you call the police on Simon?” Jake interjected, a sense of anxiety blooming in the pit of his stomach at the thought of explaining this to the  _ police _ .

“No- and unless you want to press charges for assulat or attempted murder, nobody at the hospital is going to, either. We’re not even going to charge him for the glass shattering.” The doctor chuckled dryly, seemingly desperate to move on from this chapter in his career, and onto lunch or something. But lunch wasn’t on the menu just yet.

Jake looked at the doctor, now more antsy than he was a few moments ago. “How is Simon now? When can we see him?”

“That’s another thing. I was so caught up in telling you everything else- well, I told you that he’s very underweight and becoming malnourished, so we had to put him on fluid IV’s to try and get him better in that regard. We, um, also tried to put him on an extremely low dosage of Zoloft because we thought that would help him, since our records show that he’s been on it for many years, but his body had a bad reaction to it immediately. In fact, I would say he’s become completely allergic to it; we’re lucky we gave him such a low dosage, or he might’ve had a much worse reaction to it, and in his current health state that is the last thing he needs.”

“What happened to him?” Jake inquired.

“He ran a high fever- higher than it was, more vomiting, this time with his actual blood, and he had a violent seizure. Although, I will say the round of vomiting that this reaction induced seemed to clear out  _ whatever  _ he was vomiting up before. And that’s not the end of it: He has quite severe second and third degree burns all over various parts of his body, including his stomach and esophagus that we noticed after he had stopped vomiting enough that we could look in his mouth. He also lost an  _ incredible  _ amount of blood, nearly 7 pints, and we don’t have an explanation why. Honestly, that alone should’ve killed him, but yet he’s alive, and in fact, recovering quite remarkably. A lot of his burns have started healing quite rapidly, he has recovered from the blood transfusion we gave him and his vital signs are showing continual improvement.”

“Is he still in a medically-induced coma? Edward asked.

Dr. Howells nodded. “For the time being, as a precautionary for the safety of my staff and himself. He was still resisting violently when I ordered him under, and even though he may be recovering physically, mentally may be a different story. His seizure was quite intense, even while under heavy sedation. But, if he continues his current rate of improvement, I can bring him awake tomorrow morning if you wish to speak to him.”

“I understand.” Edward nodded, shifting the paper inbetween his fingers. “What do you recommended for after he wakes up? Therapy or the likes?”

“Honestly?” The doctor asked, fiddling with the picture of him and his wife as he watched Edward nod in acknowledgement. “A priest.”

Jake and Edward both looked at each other at that answer, and then started chuckling, thinking the doctor was joking and about to start laughing with them. He did not.

“I’m serious.” The doctor’s voice cut through their nervous humor, and Dr. Howells actually picked up the picture of him and his wife and turned it to face the brothers.

“I’m not particularly religious myself, but my wife is a Catholic and she’s known the priest of her local church ever since childhood. Like I said, I’m not particularly religious myself, but after Mr. Ziegler coming here and everything that’s transpired with him, I can get you in contact with the priest, if you so wish. You have no idea how…  _ horrifying  _ your friend was and how badly he scared my head nurse. I had to stop her from resigning after her shift was over, she was so unnerved by what happened.”

Jake blinked at the grey-streaked doctor, mouth slightly parted while Edward spoke again after clearing his throat and clicking his jaw. “Thank you. We will see how Simon is before we take any...unorthodox actions. But we thank you immensely for your offer.” Even though Edward was trying to sound uninstered in the doctor’s offer, Jake knew that he was ready to take him up on it if Simon showed  _ any signs  _ of that demon still being inside of him.

And honestly, Jake was too, if it meant making sure he was never _ “collected” _ like an overdue debt. “Yes, thank you.” Jake spoke up, and leaned over to politely offer his hand for the doctor to shake. The doctor’s hand was slightly sweaty, clammy and very wrinkly and Jake had to swallow the urge to cringe. Jake distracted himself from the cringe by asking “Anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I think that’s it for now. You two have a lot to digest, I assume” The doctor chuckled, and shook Edward’s outstretched hand as well and then stood up, running his hand over his white lab coat a single time. “I’ll have the receptionist call you tomorrow morning and let you know if Simon is well enough to have visitors- oh, I nearly forgot! Simon had his phone and wallet on his person.” The doctor walked over to a tall grey, upstanding locker in the corner of his office, took out a set of keys from his coat pocket, and unlocked the door and retrieved what Jake recognized as Simon’s phone and wallet. 

“Would you like to have them?” The doctor held the items out to the brothers, encouraging one of them to take it. “On the promise that you won’t rob him or commit fraud, of course.”

Jake stood up first, and was the one to collect Simon’s items as the doctor presented them. “Yeah, no, no, I wouldn’t do that. Besides, everybody would know I did it then, right?” Jake smiled, and ended up shaking the doctor’s hand once more as the older man walked around his desk and opened his office door for the brothers, letting them walk out first. 

“Oh, and boys?” The doctor called to them as they both exited the room. “I would be careful about who you… repeat all this to. A lot of people would get the wrong idea.” Nodding without even looking at each other for conformation, the brothers wisely agreed to the doctor’s behest, and they both turned back around to walk do-

“Hey!” Jake turned back around at the last moment, right as Dr. Howells was about to close his office door. 

“Yes?” The greying doctor replied.

“Can… can you do us- and Simon- a favor and not tell his parents about  _ it?”  _ The  _ it  _ referring to Simon’s condition, which the doctor seemed to understand. “I know you haven’t been able to get in touch with them yet, so I was thinking you could just-”

“My apologies, Mr. Park, but we must inform his next of kin of his condition while he’s here, so as long as he’s my patient, we must keep trying to contact them. But-”

The doctor held his hand up, and a soft smile graced his features. “I will most  _ certainly  _ tell them about the horrible Meningitis that their son caught from an apparent weakened immune system that, we theorize, was caused by the Zoloft he was taking. Even worse, he seems to now be allergic to the drug- which is quite a medical marvel in ti of itself…” The doctor trailed off as he stepped back inside his office fully and closed the door behind him, leaving the Park brothers standing in the hall, staring at the spot where he once was.

“You know.” Edward started, looking at the paper in his hands and folding it over once perfectly. “For a doctor, he isn’t that bad.”

“I don’t think Simon’s parents would’ve liked it if they had to have paid for the glass.” Jake commented, and fell into step beside his brother as they walked back into the Isolation Ward, and they both took a brief pause to look at Simon in his room once more.

While he was looking at his friend’s prone form through the glass, Jake had a distressing thought. “Simon’s parents aren’t gonna like it either if he can’t take his medicine anymore.” 

Edward’s shoulders shifted when he looked at Jake and realized what he  _ truly  _ meant. “You’re right, they aren’t.” Giving Simon a few more seconds to be gawked at, Edward tugged on Jake’s sleeve to urge him along. “Let’s go. We both know we hate hospitals.”

Jake shuddered. “God, you can say that again.” He really did hate hospitals. He hated how much  _ catchable sickness _ , there was, the knowledge that people were in there dead or dying left and right, that most doctors were money-greedy and charged a fortune for simple procedures-

Simon’s phone buzzed in Jake’s hands. It was a text message, but since he didn’t know Simon’s password right off hand, he could only see that it was someone listed as  _ “Greta” _ and the beginning of the text was:  _ “I wish you were here Simon! Bermuda is beaut…” _

It reminded him that Simon wasn’t invited to his sister’s birthday party, even though Jake figures that Simon could’ve taken at least the Friday off to catch a flight to Bermuda. It reminded him of what Edward told him of Simon’s family history and what his father likely thought of him. It reminded him of what Simon told him while he held a gun to his head-

“You have any wine left over from last night?” Jake asked his brother in a low voice.

“Some, why?” 

  
“I’m drinking the rest of it when we get home.”

“That’s how alcoholism starts, Jake.”

“Go fuck yourself with a corkscrew.”

***

After reading the statement made by the head nurse the night Simon was admitted outloud at the kitchen table for the fourth time, Jake found himself tipping back his wine glass and licking the inside of the glass to get the final drops of the liquid into his mouth.

Until Edward snatched it away from him. “Jacob, quit acting like a barbarian. You know Mom would have a fit if she saw you doing that.” He immediately got up and put the now soiled glass into the dishwasher, missing Jake’s eyeroll.

“I’m underage, you shouldn’t be letting me be having any alcohol in the first place.”

“Better you do it here where I can watch you than out in some seedy bar getting God knows what disease. And I’m only letting you have it in the first place because of everything going on. And it’s light wine.” Edward paused mid-rant to walk to his fridge and pulls out a bottle of water to slide to Jake as he came back to his seat, and then fiddled with the piece of paper on the table.

“Drink this unless you want to spend the rest of your Saturday being hungover.”

“I know how to fucking drink water, you fucking peasent.” Jake replied sarcastically, but twisted open the water bottle and took a huge swig of it before returning to the task at hand. “What really bothers me-” Jake started, swallowing his water. “-is that Simon started talking about Dwight. I mean, we haven’t talked about Dwight in  _ months.” _

Edward hums. “Either way, it says right here in the nurses’ statement that Simon said that whatever was controlling him wanted to  _ “collect” _ you and Dwight. She wouldn’t have known his name if Simon hadn’t said it.”

Running his fingers into his hair, Jake leaned back into his seat and took another swig from his water bottle.  _ “I know.” _ Jake bemoaned. “God, I really thought I could move past Dwight and go back to dragging myself through college, but  _ nope _ , life won’t let it rest,  _ huh _ ?” Talking about Dwight had just brought back all these  _ feelings  _ and  _ emotions  _ that Jake had successfully been beating back all these weeks and months and had forgotten about them  _ again _ , but yet, it seems that fate is determined to keep shoving the nail-biting man back into his life.  _ The conversation that Simon had with him while possessed resurfaces, and he hates himself for being such a lapdog to his father- _

Damn the universe. Edward suddenly put the paper flat on the table, and held out his hand. “Give me Simon’s phone.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Jake gave his brother a confused look, but took Simon’s phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Why?”

Edward took out his own phone, turned on its flashlight and shined the light on the top of Simon’s screen. He stared at it for a few seconds, but it only to half that long for Jake to realize what he was doing.

He was using his _own damn trick _against him_. _Or for him. Whatever, it meant- “Edward, I do _not _want to call Dwight.”

“Well then,  _ I’ll  _ call him.” Edward tried to draw Simon’s password once, but failed, giving Jake an opportunity to try and snatch it away from him, but due to being on the slightly shorter side of the human height spectrum, he failed as well. 

“Edward!’ Jake hissed out, watching his brother try another password and failing a second time. He took on the look of an angry Shibe Inu. “Wh- what, are we just going to straight-up tell Dwight what happened and expect him to believe us? What if Simon deleted his number already?”

“Then we’re going down to PizzaWhat! and telling him personally.” Edward responded calmly and resolutely, and tried drawing a third pattern. The phone buzzed when Edward lifted his finger away from the screen, and the older brother turned into a small victory pump into the air.

“I’m in.” Edward said, and Jake got up out of his chair and walked behind his brother, shoving his arm all into Edward’s personal space and trying to grab the phone away from him.

“Ed, Dwight’s not going to believe us-”

Edward gave his younger sibling a shove small enough to not hurt but big enough to stop him from grabbing the phone. “Jake, sit down!  _ And don’t call me Ed _ \- look, I don’t care if you still have repressed feelings for the man, or if you ended on bad terms or whatever, but in case it slipped your mind: there is a  _ demon  _ that  _ possessed Simon  _ that wants to get  _ you  _ and  _ Dwight. _ You know I don’t involve people in business that isn’t theirs, but this is now Dwight’s business as much as it is mine.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort, but he found a slim finger being shoved roughly in his face and Edward had  _ that look  _ on his face that screamed  _ I’m older than you so therefore I know best _ and Jake wanted to yell back at him  _ no you don’t! You’re just as stupid as I am!  _ but Edard pressed something on the phone and a dial tone started ringing.

Eyes widening and eyebrows scurrying into his hairline, Jake tried once more to smack the phone from his brother’s hand, but this time Edward got up out of his own kitchen chair, grabbed Jake by the scruff of his collar, and drug him to his loveseat and pushed him down on it, pointing his finger in his face while whispering at him to  _ be quiet! _

Then before Jake could scramble back up to his feet, the phone rang for another beat and then Jake could barely, just barely make out the voice of Dwight Fairfield on the other side of the line, sounding surprised. 

“ _ Simon?”  _ Jake rolled his eyes in defeat, and whispered to his brother  _ put him on speakerphone. _

Edward put his palm over the receiver and whispered back  _ will you behave? _

_ Yes!  _ If this was going to happen, Jake wanted to be the one to tell Dwight what was going on, whether the man would believe him or not. Jake wanted to hear his reaction, as weird as that sounded.

_ “Hello?”  _ Dwight asked on the other side of the line, and Edward snatched his hand away from the receiver and hit a button to turn on the speakerphone before speaking in his most professional tone of voice. “Hello, is this Dwight Fairfield?”

_ “Yes, who is this? Why do you have Simon’s phone?”  _

Edward folded an arm behind his back, stood up straight and really laid it on  _ thick _ . “My name is Edward Park- I’m Jake Park’s brother, do you remember him?”

A brief pause on the other line _ .  _ “ _ Jak- oh yeah, yeah! I, uh remember him. Didn’t know he had a brother, though. Why-” _

Edward cut him off. “Where are you? I mean, are you out in public?”

Jake could almost hear Dwight crinkling his forehead in confusion, could nearly see his eyes squinting in thought. “ _ No, I’m- I’m at home, why? What’s going on?” _

“Good, I don’t want anybody to overhear what I’m about to tell you: Simon’s in the hospital.”

_ “Oh, that’s sad to hear! What happened to him? But-an-and why are you calling me?” _

“Because it involves you.” Edward gave Jake a brief look that let him know that he was about to drop the P bomb.

“ _ Why-” _

“Simon was possessed, and he said he wanted to  _ “collect” _ you for the demon that possessed him.”

The line went silent on Dwight’s end. The silence went on for so long that Jake had honestly thought that he had hung up.

But then Dwight made a reappearance, voice no longer steady and concerned for Simon’s well-being.  _ “What? What did you say?” _

“Do I need to repeat myself or are you just-”

“ _ Is this some sort of joke? Is this some sort of sick joke? Like, because if it is then it’s not funny-” _

“I promise you, it’s not.”

“ _ I just… I can’t be-believe what you told me. Are demons even real? I don’t know! And what demon would want me, hah-” _

“Dwight.” Jake sucked in a breath and got up off the couch, swallowing his hammering heart and pride and speaking to Dwight personally. He leans into the receiver that Edward switches his hold on to point more towards Jake. “I promise you, my brother is being serious-  _ we’re  _ being serious. Listen, I know you don’t really believe us-”

_ “I’m- I’m really having a hard time trying to, Jake-” _

“-I know, but come with us to the hospital tomorrow, then. We’re hoping he’ll be awake tomorrow so he can tell you himself. Will that make you believe us, then?” Jake’s voice dropped off a cliff at the end, hoping that Dwight would  _ at least  _ agree to see Simon so Jake could show him how  _ serious  _ this whole situation was, and how he could  _ really  _ be in danger if there was a demon after him-

_ “If… okay.”  _ Dwight sounded so confused that he almost sounded like he was in pain. _ “If- if Simon is really in the hospital and IF he’s really sick and IF the doctor doesn’t have a reasonable explanation for why he’s sick, then I’ll believe you. Just- please-please don’t be lying to me, Jake. I’ve had people trick me before, and- and it gets old-” _

“I swear on my outrageously expensive college education, Dwight, I’m not joking.” Jake let out a soft chuckle at his euphemism, and his heart exploded when he heard Dwight chuckle back in return. Not literally, but he  _ wished _ . “Meet us at Yale-New Haven hospital tomorrow at 9 a.m.- you know where that is?”

_ “Yeah, yeah, I know where that is.” _ Jake could’ve sworn he heard a soft  _ meow  _ on the other end- _ did Dwight have cats? _ Jake had a very traitorous thought that he might have to give Dwight another chance at a date if he had a cat.  _ As if I could afford to indulge in such a thing- well, actually, what’s stopping me- _

“Okay.” Jake suddenly forgot how to speak. An awkward pause ensued. “See you then.” He barely heard Dwight say  _ “you too _ ” before had pressed the End Call button way too hard, slapped Simon’s phone back in Edward’s hand and collapsed backwards onto the loveseat, running his hands over his face with a loud groan.

“Oh God, my life sucks  _ ass. _ ” He couldn’t just  _ get  _ through college, could he?

“I’ll agree.” Edward scoffed, which earned him a glare from between Jake’s outspread fingers still pressed on his face. Jake closed his eyes to rub at them with his fingertips, and felt the sofa dipped next to him, the familiar weight of his brother distracting him for just a moment. “...what about Cameron?” He heard Edward ask.

Jake took his hands away from his face and looked at his brother with confusion. “I- what do you mean  _ what about Cameron? _ ”

“It says right here in the nurses’ statement-” Edward hopped off the loveseat to grab the piece of paper and then floated back down into his claimed loveseat spot. “-that Simon had  _ “said that he had planned to kill someone named Cameron to summon the entity inside of him in order to “collect” Jake.” _ So, Cameron was the intended target and the thing that’s inside of Simon wants to  _ kill _ Cameron.”

Jake started at Edward with a blank expression on his face.

“...I  _ wish- _ ”

“ _ Jake- _ ” Edward began, but Jake didn’t want to hear it.

“-look, don’t pretend that you don’t hate Cameron as much as I do. Remember  _ The Stain _ he left on one of your jackets that I borrowed once?”

Edward didn’t say anything for a pregnant pause as his face melted into something akin to sadness chiseled his usual stony features. “I do.” He whispered forlornly; it was one of his best jackets that he had to toss out because he could  _ never  _ wear it again after Jake saw… what happened to it. Jake honestly wouldn’t have ever worn it again either.

“Either way-” Edward shook his head. “-I think we should tell him.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think we should.”

“And why not,  _ brother _ ?”

“Because let’s be honest: the world would be a better place without fuckboys like Cameron. And can you imagine what his reaction would be if we even tried to talk to him about something serious like this?” Jake threw his hands up in the air.

“ _ Because…”  _ Edward started, trailing off and worrying his lip inbetween his teeth. “Well- fuck, Jake. If we  _ don’t  _ tell him, and if that thing in Simon isn’t  _ done  _ yet, he’s just a walking target. Then that demon is going to do whatever it wants with Cameron, and then it’s going to do whatever it wants with  _ you _ .”

“Yeah, but if we tell him, then we’re going to have to make him keep quiet. How do you think we can keep his mouth shut if he can’t even keep his pants zipped up?”

“... damnit, Jake.” Edward huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then  _ you  _ have to make sure he doesn’t fall victim to whatever ploy there is against him.”

Jake rolled his eyes hard enough to set the clocks back an hour. “I’ll try, but he’s usually out vaping or fucking thots or whatever. I’m not letting my grades suffer to save him, if it comes down to it.”

Edward rolled his eyes back mockingly. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your minimal efforts later in life when he’s hooked up to a ventilator, lungs destroyed by vaping his alveoli away.”

Jake crosses his arms over his chest and pouts hard enough that he gains a double chin. “He’ll appreciate it even  _ more  _ when I unplug it.” 


	11. I got to the bridge, crossed it, and now have PTND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wide variety of things happen in this chapter- including gay stuff.
> 
> Hey everybody! Sorry it's been so LONG- life has been wild! Plus the last commission took much of my Brain Juice.
> 
> This chapter has drug use, nutting and PTND (post traumatic nightmare disorder and yes i just made that up) and the gang's all here!
> 
> Y'alls love and support has really kept me going, and I am trying to make the chapters shorter but whoops they get away from me dont they hahah- 
> 
> anyways, i hope ye enjoy and nut as well!

Jake spent the rest of his Saturday in the only way he knew could prepare him for tomorrow: smoking a joint to chill the fuck out and forget about having  _ feelings _ \-  _ under his brother's watchful gaze, of course. _

He had discovered the coolest little plant to ever exist back in what would educationally be described as 10th grade because he was too privileged to go to public school when a group of “acquaintances” he knew saw how he was always complaining about his father being right up his ass and how he was having a hard time keeping up with school. A kid named Jarred he knew  _ (was actually not a horrible kid, but definitely a little bit entitled and not someone he hung around with normally) _ , offered to hook him up with some weed for him to try. Kid even showed him how to roll his first blunt. 

Jake remembers hanging out with him for a while  _ until  _ he showed him how to shotgun a puff and tried to put his tongue in his mouth. Half-stoned, it took a few seconds for Jake to realize that shotgunning probably didn’t involve this much tongue and saliva and pushed the other away in shock and slight disgust at the thought of someone trying to shove their tongue down his throat. Jarred was  _ not  _ that good looking or nice enough to be allowed to do that, and even though Jarred apologized for trying to make out with him and said he wouldn’t do it again, Jake felt a little too embarrassed and indignant to hang out with him anymore, and thus ended  _ that  _ acquaintanceship. 

It was fine by that point though; he had met enough people to get his own supply- a good and reputable supply that helped him cope with the stresses of school and his father constantly up his ass about what he should do for the future of  _ the family  _ and failing to take in any wishes that Jake had for himself. Edward finds comfort in the bottom of a wine glass at the end of the day, Jake finds comfort with r/catloafs in one hand and a blunt in the other.

Which is exactly what they did and are currently doing right at this very moment.

Jake takes a deep inhale of the first hit and starts coughing, tears dotting at the corners of his eyes while Edward tried to conceal a snicker behind his hand. “Shut up.” Jake coughed, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “I don’t do this all the time- unlike  _ you  _ and your  _ drinking _ .”

Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking another small sip of his Merlot wine. “I’m not an alcoholic. You, on the other hand, are a  _ stoner _ .”

Jake scoffed louder and rolled his eyes harder, rolling onto his stomach as he layed on his brother’s sofa to stare at Edward with a not-so-focused stare. “Dude. You’re  _ such  _ an alcoholic you need therapy. There’s a center in Yale where you can get all sorts of pamphlets for that stuff, and I think I might need to get you some next-”

“Wh-” Edward sat up, indignant before he noticed the lazy smile on his brother’s face and the way his eyes were crinkling up.  _ The bastard was being funny and I almost fell for it! _ “Jake, your sarcasm will be the death of me.  _ God _ , I can’t believe you would even  _ think  _ about doing something like that.”

Jake had to take another hit off his blunt so he could quell the giggles that threatened to erupt inside of him by being too busy coughing to laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t realise a simple  _ joke  _ would offend you so much.”

Edward rolled his eyes, determined not to be outdone by his younger brother in the eye-rolling competition. “Jake, it’s 2020. Everything is offensive to somebody.” 

The younger brother groaned out loud and rolled over onto his back, taking another long hit off his blunt before speaking again. “ _ God _ , you have no idea. You’re lucky you can graduate early this year. I have to spend another 3 years with kids who are the fuckin’,... PC Police or some shit. And they wonder about  _ “Why don’t you ever talk to people Jake? I’m sure you can make more friends if you talked more?-”  _ It’s because the first thing I would end up doing is misgendering somebody and then get called, like,...  _ racist  _ or some shit, I don’t know-  _ transphobic _ ! That’s the word. Transphobic. I think. I don’t-” Jake inhaled about half of the remaining blunt in one go, and coughed a few times to clear his throat. He needed to stop thinking so hard, and clearly he needed more marijuana in his lungs. 

“Don’t choke on your own sarcasm, brother, lest you actually end up dying.” Edward pried his eyes away from his brother whose few coughs had blossomed into another coughing fit. Tutting in disappointment, he shook his head before remarking to himself “ _ Oh _ , how will I ever live without your sarcasm?” He turns his head to read the next line in his book but hears the creaking sound of his sofa moving under the action of Jake sitting upright, and missed his brother’s vengeful stare and his arm raised above his head.

“Not very long.” A small and soft pillow strikes Edward in the knee he has resting on top of his other one, bouncing off harmlessly and landing on his Oriental shag rug that he had inherited from his grandfather. Gasping as his pillow hit the ground, Edward quickly laid his book down in his lap to pick up the object and smack it free of dust and dirt.

“I don’t care how high you are-” Edward started, and sat up to tuck the pillow behind his head so Jake couldn’t throw it again. “- _ do not  _ throw my good pillows.”

“It’s not my fault if you buy $300 pillows from Pier 1 and they get a little dirty.” And  _ no,  _ he’s not  _ that  _ high yet. Putting down his phone when he got to a good place to stop on Reddit, Jake slid a hand behind his head to take another toke, the relaxation the weed provided now fully circulating in his system and making his usually hard-set facial features relax. The lazy, lax smile that stretched across his face was almost unsettling if anybody who didn’t know that this was his happy face was around to see him.

“I buy top quality. Like that jacket you bought.”

“Listen-” Jake’s smile turned hard for a moment, then went back to being lazy and stretched. “-I take winter very seriously. Hey-” Jake rolled off the sofa onto the floor, landing on his butt with a soft grunt before getting to his feet and finishing off his blunt with a deep inhale. Jake tilted his head back to blow smoke towards the ceiling before putting out the smoulder blunt in his ashtray. He watched the smoke coalesce up above him and then spread out in random patterns before remembering that he had wanted to ask something.

“Hey, you know what’s on TV?”

Edward looked up from where he had just picked up his book again, flipping the pages randomly as he looked at his brother trying to break his neck. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“No.” Jake walked over to where he brother was seated and picked up the remote on the end table beside him. “I want to watch TV.”

Edward grabbed Jake’s arm that was holding the remote before he could abscond with the device. “Now, Jake-” Edward started, putting his book down for a second time that evening and pointing a finger at his younger brother. “-you know how you are when you’re high and watch TV.”

Jake snatched his arm back, taking the remote with him as he flopped back down onto the sofa. “I did not  _ cry  _ at the end of Wheel of Fortune, okay? The weed burned my eyes.”  _ Absolutely-  _ he did not cry when that woman with a disabled son and a husband who lost an arm in combat won over 50k in cold, hard cash, not to mention the vacations and a brand new car. Anybody who said otherwise was a dirty and blasphemous  _ liar _ .

Edward rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book. “Knock yourself out then. Literally,  _ please.” _

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jake couldn’t actually see Edward rolling his eyes, but Jake did the same. Hitting the power button, Jake fully expected his brother to grace him with some sort of response, but when the TV came onto the QVC channel and Edward had said nothing, Jake grabbed another pillow and held it up over his head, ready to chuck it at his brother’s failed show of respect-

“I don’t know what’s on TV, Jake!” Edward cried out, seeing the raised $300 Pier 1 pillow aimed at his head out of the corner of his eye. “The only thing I know that’s on is the Bachelorette because it’s, like, the season finale and people were hashtagging it all over Twitter.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You have a Twitter?”

“Yes. I don’t really use it, but it’s useful for business and realizing how hypocritical people are.”

Humming in thought, Jake flipped channels randomly while considering this piece of information. It was very interesting to think about. “You probably have an Instagram, too.” He said after thinking about what type of secret life his brother had on social media. He was probably a Snapchat pornstar- not to be weird or anything, but his brother was good-looking enough to be one-  _ Ew, gross.  _ Jake shuddered.  _ That was gross, don’t ever think about your brother being a pornstar ever again- _

“I do  _ not _ !” Edward put a hand on his knee like he was  _ insulted  _ that Jake would ever suggest such a thing. “I don’t even have Facebook anymore. I deleted that in 2017 after it came out that they were selling its data to other companies-”

“You never delete Facebook.” Jake said in a very creepy, monotone voice. Edward couldn’t tell if his brother was joking or not, so he didn’t say anything in response. Luckily, Jake broke the silence again, back to his slightly airy voice that only came out when he was high as a kite. “What channel is the Bachelorette on?”

“12, I think. It’s ABC. It comes on in-” Edward paused in reading his book to look at his Rolex. “-two minutes.” 

“Thanks.” Edward heard the sound of the TV channel being changed again, but didn’t pay no mind to it until he heard a familiar tune.

_ The ABC channel tune.  _

Edward slammed his book down so hard on his leg that he was  _ sure  _ there would be a bruise on his thigh when he undressed tonight. “You are  _ not-” _

“I’m not going to  _ actually watch  _ it-” Jake started, brows furrowing while trying to defend his weed-influenced mentality as to why he’s even  _ considering  _ watching one of the worst shows ever aired on television. “-I want to make fun of the people on it.”

Edward opened his mouth to retort, but knew that there was no arguing with Jake when he’s high: he’s simply too wacked out to care, and honestly, Jake watching the Bachelorette might be something better for him to do considering what he usually does: wander outside to a park with children playing and talk to birds.

The elder sighs and relents, albeit painfully and not without stipulations. “Keep the volume down and  _ do not  _ throw things at my TV again.”

Jake blew a raspberry at his brother. “That was  _ one  _ time when that  _ stupid  _ motherfucker got Minecraft and Fortnite confused with each other on Million Dollar Pyramid.”

“That was no excuse to throw greek yogurt at my TV, Jake. I do _ not _ want a repeat, do you hear me?”

“Do you even have any yogurt here?” Jake asks, being half-serious and turns up the volume to a comfortable level as the previews of the Bachelorette starts to roll. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he realizes that the  _ only  _ reason why he’s watching this show is because he’s high and smoking weed makes him lose all self-respect, but the weed also makes him  _ not  _ care. He just doesn’t give a damn that he’s watching this horrible show.

Edward shoves his face into his book and proceeds to ignore Jake and the TV show for all of 20 seconds.

Until one of the guys vying for the woman’s affection starts bawling in an interview segment. Now, it’s not that Edward really has a problem with crying _ (crying is appropriate for very sad or extremely distressing situations, although he’s sure his father would never allow anybody over the age of three to cry in front of him) _ , but crying on national television over a woman whose really only on there to have 20-something guys lusting after her like the Priestess of Babylon is a bit ridiculous to Edward. But to his younger brother, apparently, he finds it humorous because he can hear him chuckling.

Jake should really watch the THC content in his weed, or maybe, Edward thinks with his limited knowledge of marijuana, Jake needs to eat to lessen its effects upon him. That’s how some medication works, right? Shouldn’t be too much different. “Jake.” Edward says, not looking up from his book that he’s not even really reading but refuses to watch what’s on the television. “Go eat something. You’re laughing like a mad doctor.”

Jake pursed his lips and gave Edward a look of discontent, but stopped laughing and left the remote on the coffee table in front of the sofa as he got up and made his way into his brother’s kitchen. “I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to-” Jake put up finger quotes _ “-operate heavy machinery” _ while I’m high?”

_ Oh shit-  _ “Just- there’s microwaveable popcorn in the pantry. Make some of that.” At first, Jake didn’t answer and that made Edward nervous because when Jake was silent when he was high, that usually meant he was up to something. Well, that also applied to when Jake  _ isn't  _ high, but Jake wasn’t a huge talkative person anyways, especially with people he didn’t know or like.

Either way, when Jake is silent where he should’ve spoken, that means he’s up to something. Edward runs this thought over in his head as he hears Jake get up and shuffle into the kitchen no less than three times before he puts his book down, marking his spot with a leather bookmark because he’s fully given up on concentrating on his reading and turns to look at what Jake is doing in his kitchen.

He catches his brother turning a dial on the stove, one of his good black frying pans on a burner, and Jake standing over it trying to unwrapping a full stick of butter and attempting to sling it into the frying pan which also contained the whole unopened plastic package of popcorn.

“JACOB!” Edward squawked out, jumping up from his seat and dashing to the kitchen to grab the frying pan off the stove and turning the burner off. He gingerly takes the popcorn bag out after giving it a light touch to see if it was hot and tosses it on the counter before turning on his brother. He’s still holding the partially unwrapped stick of butter as Edward berates him.

“And that’s why I said  _ use the microwave _ , genius.” Edward puts the pan back into the cabinets before turning around to look back at his brother and taking the stick of butter from his hands, wrapping it back up and sticking it back in the fridge.

“The packaging said that using the microwave was a suggestion.” Jake says casually, like he wasn’t about to fry plastic in a frying pan on high with a whole stick of butter for flavor.

Edward  _ stared.  _ “And  _ not  _ using heavy machinery  _ wasn’t.  _ Now, either use the microwave or don’t have popcorn.” The elder watched as Jake pouted for a minute, then rolled his eyes and reached up for the microwave with a defeated groan. ”Fine. But if I get cancer from this thing, I’m telling Mom you did it.”

Edward rolled his eyes at Jake before turning around and walking back to his seat, not really worried that Jake would even remember most of what he was saying when the weed wore off. As the seat creaked beneath his weight, he tried once more to pick up his book, open it back up to where his bookmark was and read the same paragraph for the 5th time…

_ “God, I love her so much, like, nobody will ever understand how much I love her-” _

_ Jesus H. Christ _ , Edward was going to have a  _ stroke  _ if Jake really was going to watch this crap for the whole hour.

_ “Find out on tonight’s two-hour season finale which guy is Yolanda’s dream guy-” _

“Two hours!?” Edward had not realised he’d said that outloud under Jake hummed acknowledgingly behind him before the microwave beeped and the sound of paper being torn filled the air. Twisting in his seat, Edward gave Jake a hard and slightly pleading look. “We’re  _ not  _ watching this for two hours.”

“Then find something better to watch, then.” Jake retorted, fetching a bowl down from the cabinets and dumping the bag of popcorn into it, then walking around the island and coming back to his spot on the sofa. “‘Cause this is the  _ only  _ thing on besides basketball.”

“Oh.” Edward groaned. “March Madness?”

“Yep.” Jake popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth, made a face for a second, made another face opposite of the face he had just made, then shrugged his shoulders and went back to his  _ high as fuck  _ face. “This is alright for microwaveable popcorn.”

“It’s Orville, so it should be.” Edward replied, trying once more to read his book but giving up once again when the sound of another man crying reached his ears. Huffing and tossing his book onto his end table, Edward asked his brother once more “You’re really gonna watch this?”

Jake swallowed a bite of popcorn before shrugging. “Unless you find something better that’s not basketball.”

Shaking his head, Edward held out his hand. “Then hand me the remote. I’ll check the guide while you get off on this.”

“Ew, gross.” Jake vocalized inbetween even more gross smacks of his jaw working to crunch up the popcorn in his mouth and Edward fought back the urge to tell his brother not to talk while he was chewing. But because of Jake being so stoned it would just go over his head and be wasted breath on his part. The remote was slapped into his open palm, and Edward was  _ very  _ eager to find something  _ else  _ to watch than this.

_ “God, all these guys here… they’re so hot and kind and nice and sensitive and *sniff* so caring I don’t think I can choose-” _

Edward stuck his other hand in his hair, tugging lightly at his thick locks to help him deal with the  _ fury  _ this show is already filling him with, and it’s only been on for five whole minutes. He flipped through the guide hurriedly, eager to find something else than this  _ garbage  _ to watch… but there truly was  _ nothing  _ else besides basketball and shows that he would rather watch the Bachelorette over. And that’s saying something.

Something is said on screen that Edward doesn’t catch, but Jake giggles at it and hugs his bowl of popcorn in his lap tighter. The elder starts going through the guide faster, but when he reaches the 200’s, he realises that the channels are only going to start repeating and if he doesn’t find something soon, he’s going to have to watch two hours of the Bachelorette.

He might have to jump out of his 3rd story window if that happens.

By the time he reaches the 300’s, Edward sighs in resignation and tosses the remote back to Jake, whom it hits in his thigh and causes a soft  _ “Hey!”  _ to emanate from him. He doesn’t see Jake look smug in response to Edward’s failure.

“Given up?” Jake asks, and Edward picks up his book and  _ pretends  _ to read it this time: there’s no way he can concentrate enough to actually read it which how much  _ raw  _ testosterone the TV is emitting.

“Despite how  _ rich  _ we are, the apartment complex is paying for the cable, and sadly the music channels aren’t included in the default package and I’m  _ not  _ paying an arm and a leg for it.” Some people would say he’s cheap; but he’s just frugal. Basic cable was already expensive enough and he’s not giving them any more money than he needs to.

_ “Like, I wanted to get her a bouquet of roses for the dinner, but then I saw Valentino go into the store I was about to go into and buy her the EXACT same roses that I was gonna buy- so I had to come up with a plan quick and I ran across the street and bought her, like, a $2,000 diamond necklace-” _

Edward looks to his curtain-covered window and has to tell himself that he survived Simon’s possession so that means he has the strength to survive this. And that Jake would get himself killed if he killed himself.

And with that thought, Edward comes up with an idea on how to  _ not  _ rip out his whole head of hair by listening to the show. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when Simon is released from the hospital?’ Edward asked Jake, who didn’t respond or even acknowledge that he heard his brother for a moment. He was about to ask again before Jake made a noise and shook his head.

“That’s why I got high for, so I  _ wouldn’t  _ have to think about that.” Jake shovels another handful of popcorn in his mouth and pouts for a moment before rolling his eyes. “And no, not really. I mean, who knows what state he’ll be in anyways. He might be fine or he might have to go back home for assisted care or someth-”

“Simon’s parents aren’t  _ really  _ going to take care of him.” Edward interjected, and they both fell silent while the information processed in both of their brains, albeit a little bit slower in Jake’s.

_ “Dude, I’m about to straight-up fight Hans if he steps inbetween me and Yolanda  _ ** _one more time-_ ** _ ” _

“Wait.” Jake said, ate another handful of popcorn in his depleting popcorn bowl. “Wait- does that mean I’m going to have to be, like, Simon’s caretaker if he’s not fully healthy?”

“I guess you’ll have to be, unless Simon’s parents put him somewhere. Which they probably will not.”

Jake hummed. “I can barely take care of myself some days. Much less someone like Simon.”

“I think Simon will be well enough to take care of himself. Though you may have to force-feed him to get him back to a healthy weight.” Edward was semi-joking, semi-serious, but it worked in deflecting the conversation away from Simon’s potential disabilities, which the elder now regretted starting because it was making him feel  _ pity  _ for Simon.

“I can feed him more of this microwaveable popcorn.” Jake looks down at the last third of his popcorn. “And goldfish.”

“Goldfish?” Edward asks, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s his favorite snack. Especially grilled ones.” The Bachelorette had been on a commercial that went unnoticed by the brothers until the loud sound of dramatic music and bleeped-out swearing filled the room. Jake snapped his head up from the bowl in his lap just in time to see two of the final guys having a literal fistfight, pillows and roses and beer cans going everywhere.

While Edward just sighed and shook his head at the absurdity, Jake seemed to really enjoy the fight, and threw a handful of popcorn at the TV and shouted “The only good part of the show!”

It took a moment to register in Edward’s brain that  _ Jake  _ had  _ thrown popcorn  _ at his  _ TV  _ and that that was a  _ big no-no _ ! Barely containing a shriek, Edward lept out of his chair and snatched the bowl away from his inebriated brother, holding it high above his head where Jake was too short to reach. “Jake! What did I say?” Edward demanded with a stern look on his face. Jake huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looked down, slightly embarrassed but he did not answer.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question-”

“Don’t throw food at you $1,800 TV. Okay, Okay, I get it: I’m high as fuck and I forget things and I get excited easily.” If there wasn’t butter popcorn stains on his TV and on his floor, Edward would’ve laughed at how Jake was right when he said he gets excited easily when he’s high. It took him back to when Jake was young-  _ very, very young  _ and would practically be bouncing off the walls from sunup to sundown and would always be excited or entertained or enthralled by  _ something _ . 

Edward remembers a small five year old Jake running up to him one time, covered in dirt and mud while holding out a small equally dirty and muddy baby bird he said he had rescued when it had fallen out of his nest. Edward had screamed as all eight year olds do at the sight of a small, muddy creature squirming around in Jake’s grasp so loud that Jake started crying and their mother had to come over to them to calm them both down. But instead of making Jake let go of the bird, he remembers their mother taking them both inside and helping Jake wash the little bird off in the sink with soap and water.

_ I guess Dad telling Jake to sit down, get out of the dirt and calm himself like a young man eventually got him to stop _ , Edward mused as the pout on Jake’s lips only broadened the longer Edward held the bowl away from him. After giving his brother the Look of Disappointment for a few seconds longer, he relented and gave Jake his bowl of popcorn back with the stern warning of  _ “Do not throw any more food! And no more eating after this!”  _ And then went to pick up the pieces of popcorn off the floor.

Usually, he would make Jake pick up his own mess, but one, it gave him an excuse not to watch the Bachelorette and two, Jake would probably knock over the TV, so Edward volunteered himself for the job. The sound of Jake’s munching was the only sound in the room that wasn’t making his ears bleed, so he used all of his mental willpower to focus on that while he threw the popcorn away in the trash and got a slightly damp paper towel to wipe up the butter stains off his TV and the floor.

Starting with the TV first, Edward concentrated solely on tracking down every bit of buttery skid marks on the screen, making sure there was nothing left behind to stain or attract insects and only pausing when he realised that the sound of Jake’s munching had stopped a few moments ago.He turns around and sees that Jake is laying on the sofa, head resting in the crook of the sofa arm with a pillow underneath his dark mess of hair, a blanket across his legs with the bowl still in his lap, one hand in the bowl and one stretched out, grazing the table with his slow breathing.

Edward would like to say that he was going to march over to where Jake was, wake him up to make him go wash off his hands and mouth, put the bowl in the sink and go to bed… but after everything that’s happened, Jake looked so relaxed and peaceful the longer Edward stared at him that the elder Park found that he didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

But he couldn’t let Jake get butter all over his sofa, so when he had made sure that the TV was clean and spotless, he maneuvered around to get to Jake, wiped off all butter grease on his brother, took the popcorn bowl and put it in the sink for tomorrow. Once that had been done, he threw away his old paper towels and got a bigger, fresher one to wipe up the floor with, and made sure not to make too much noise as he mopped the butter up.

By the time he was done, Jake had begun snoring quite loudly, loud enough to  _ thankfully  _ drown out the sounds of the end of the first hour of the Bachelorette  _ (time had flown by, didn’t it?)  _ and Edward took the remote and turned it on HGTV when he remembered that a fairly decent show was coming on in a few minutes that he’d watch over the Bachelorette. But there was only so much of HGTV he could watch as well, so when the show went off at 10 o’clock and Jake was still snoozing away, Edward turned off the TV and called it a night.

Pouring himself less than a quarter of a glass of wine and downing it in one go, Edward dumped Jake’s ashtray into the sink and made sure to wash all of the illicit marijuanna down the drain and put the ashtray into the sink to dry. He paused at the entrance to his hallway to walk back into his living room to pull the blanket up to Jake’s shoulders because  _ he was always complaining that he was so cold at night _ .

Making sure his doors were locked, Edward sighed and walked back into his room to get undressed and climb into bed, the final glass of wine doing the trick and making him fall asleep within minutes with his stressful, muddled thoughts of Jake, Simon and Dwight fading away into a dark hole that was out of sight, out of mind and out of his dreams

***

Weed doesn’t always put Jake to sleep, but when it does he wakes up so fucking  _ refreshed  _ even if he usually only for a few hours. That refreshed feeling lasts for  _ days _ , or weeks if the world isn't being a dick to him, and that’s one of the biggest reasons why he gets high: to let the stress of everything melt away so that he can feel like a human being again. It’s not healthy, he knows, but until he comes up with a better game plan on how to live his life, it’s what he’s got.

And what he  _ also  _ has, he discovers when he squirms delightfully under the warm covers of the heavy blanket on top of him akin to a cat, is an erection that he doesn’t remember having before he went to sleep nor does he remember dreaming about anything in particular to cause it. But nonetheless, it’s  _ there  _ and Jake involuntary rolls his hips into the blanket for more friction and a heavy sigh, sleep and weed-laden escapes his throat before he  _ really  _ jolts awake and sits up onto his elbows, looking around for his brother, paranoid that’s he’s been caught humping a $275 blanket.

When his brother is nowhere to be found, Jake relaxes a bit when he realizes he’s alone in the living room, still on the sofa and the TV has been turned off- his ashtray and popcorn is even gone. Letting himself flop back onto the sofa, Jake let out a huff of air as the quietness of the room washed over him before he reached for his phone and checked the time. 1:14 a.m.  _ Perfect time to bust a nut,  _ Jake decided, and listen really  _ hard haha  _ for any evidence of his brother moving around or  _ anything else  _ moving around, or anything that could interrupt his lewd intentions. 

The seconds tick by on the wall clock hanging somewhere above the TV but Jake doesn’t spare it a single thought as he snuggles back under the warmth of the blanket, letting a few deep breaths come in through his nose and out through his mouth before he moves his right hand to rest against his stomach.

His fingers splay across his stomach as he internally debates if he  _ really  _ wants to jack off on his brother’s sofa at quarter after one in the morning, still ever so slightly high. He closes his eyes, letting a few strands of hair fall onto his eyelids as he tries to get his half-hard dick to simmer down so he can go back to sleep, but to no avail. Curling his fingers slightly into his shirt, Jake pouts before sighing in defeat at his failed attempt, and slips his hand down further underneath the waistline of his pants.

His fingers quickly find the swollen flesh of his dick, resting heavily against his hipbone and loosely curls his fingers around the base of it, giving it a few squeezes to encourage more bloodflow to the organ. It works, and he feels a small bead of precum start to emerge from the head of his cock, and Jake makes the wise decision of pushing his pants and boxers down just far enough to pull his erection out while trying his hardest not to brush his dick against the blanket on top of him.

Paranoid that he was going to get caught, Jake rolled his head back on the arm of the sofa, twisting his eyes painfully to the side to get a good look down the hallway. Listening intently, Jake sees nor hears nothing that implies that his brother is awake, so he goes back to the issue in hand and lets one leg hang off the end of the sofa while he bends his other knee, letting the blanket create a big enough tent over him to avoid any sort of staining from his impromptu activities.

Jake briefly considered getting up and getting some sort of lube or lotion for less painful friction- but he had already situated himself nicely, the floor was cold and he didn’t want to accidentally wake his brother up in and lose the small time frame of privacy he has, so he settles with spitting into the palm of his right hand  _ (gross but necessary)  _ and running it up and down the underside of his dick, slicking himself up as much as he could before it dried.

The bit of pre he was leaking helped too, enough to spare his dick any painful chafing when Jake started to stroke himself with more than just feather-light touches. Letting his eyes slip close, he took the time to slowly run the tip of his index finger up the underside of his erection, biting his lip when the edge of his fingernail briefly caught against the underside of his head. Craning his head back once more to double check that he was the only one awake, Jake switched back to gripping himself the way that felt the best for him and jerking himself off.

Usually, Jake would take his time with himself, unless he was in a rush or questionable location and unbearably hard, but this situation fell into pretty much those three categories, so the normally lackadaisical pace he had was gone in favor of a more  _ “cut to the chase”  _ speed. Already breathing heavily, Jake kept his lower lip tucked inbetween his teeth to muffle any sounds he might unintentionally utter. The blanket was still on top of him enough that he couldn’t actually see himself, but his arm’s movement under the covers would be unmistakable to anyone who walked by with a braincell.

Giving the base of his cock another squeeze, a few more drops of pre dribbled out and Jake kept the tight grip around himself and moved his fist upward until it started to pool on his fingers. Jake exhaled heavily through his nose at the pleasurable sensations, sparing a glance back down the hallway before letting his eyes slide shut and focusing on his movements beneath the blanket. Fingers carefully collected the precome and slathered it all over his erection, making the friction less biting and more  _ delicious. _

Moving his left arm to hold the slowly sagging middle of the blanket tent up, Jake unconsciously let him mind wander as he touched himself, shapes forming and blurring just past the darkness of his eyelids as it slowly formed into something more solid and  _ Dwight- _

_ Dwight is on his knees (or laying?) in front of him, red lips full and glasses askew as he suckled at the head of his cock, trembling in both nervousness and eagerness. Dwight lays a hand on Jake’s bare thigh to steady himself as he takes his cock deeper, and Jake has to honest-to-God struggle not to push himself further down Dwight’s throat. He can see unsureness in the wrinkles of Dwight’s forehead, but he’s more focused on his lips stretched around his dick and sucking, tongue lapping with small licks all around the tip of his existence and fuck, he’s so close already he wants to tell Dwight to stop but there’s an overwhelming urge he can’t fight to come down his throat and before he knows it he’s bucking up into Dwight’s mouth with a loud grunt- _

Jake’s eyes fluttered open as his body tensed up, hand switching from a very fast speed to a slower, more stuttered one in an instant. _ “Fuck-”  _ A low curse escapes him as his entire body siezes before spasming hard as the first rope of cum shoots forth onto his fingers. In a moment of orgasmic clarity, Jake curls his hand over the tip of his cock to contain his mess to the palm of his hand. The feeling of his jizz hitting his palm and fingers hard was somehow funny to him  _ (or it might have been due to the lingering effects of the weed) _ , and his shoulders shook in quiet laughter as the shudders racking his body subsided, leaving him feeling relaxed, slightly sweaty and-

_ Oh my God I just fantasized about Dwight giving me a blowjow what the fuck well I’ve done it now- _

He was equally horrified and horny: he had just busted a nut to Dwight, and he was supposed to meet the man tomorrow!  _ God _ , what had convinced him that that was a good idea-  _ well, a lot of things seem like a good idea when you are horny.  _

Shoulders slumping into the sofa, Jake unclenched his hand around his softening dick and raised up a little bit to look down the hallway, double checking to see if Edward was still asleep before sagging back into the sofa.

_ Well, if that doesn’t tell me how fucked I am for that man then I don’t know what will.  _

Sighing heavily, he carefully picked the blanket off of him with his left hand while keeping his right hand still and out of the way until the blanket was kicked into a pile by his feet at the opposite end of the sofa. Keeping his right hand balanced so that his jizz didn’t drip onto his brother’s $2,000 imported shag carpet from Mongolia, he quickly got up and hobbled as fast as he could to the bathroom with his dick still hanging out, hitting the faucet with his wrist to turn on the water and shoving his hands underneath the cold stream to wash away his late night deeds.

He was in such a hurry that he had forgotten to shut the bathroom door, a situation that was quickly remedied when he heard his brother’s bed creak from his room across the hallway with a squeak and a kick to the door from Jake, the  _ click!  _ sound from the door shutting send a warm wave of relief through his veins.

Jake looked up as he was washing his hands, catching a good look at himself in the mirror: cheeks still slightly flushed, hair even more of a mess than it usually was, his bottom lips looked sore and on the verge of bleeding in one spot and he still looked slightly high and fucked out of his mind.

He giggled to himself, mostly out of stress but also out of the absurdity of how  _ good  _ he looked right now compared to all the other times he’s look at himself in a Yale-Approved mirror. 

“I’m so fuckin’ screwed.” Tucking himself back into his pants, Jake whispered to himself before turning off the faucet and exiting the bathroom, almost making a turn to go to his guest bedroom until he remembered all the warm blankets on the sofa and decided that it was a better place to sleep tonight and made his way back into the living room. Dragging his feet along, Jake struggled to keep his eyes open as he slipped back under the warm layers of blankets and found himself drifting off to sleep within minutes.

_ \---He was on a hook, and it  _ ** _hurt_ ** _ ! It hurt, it hurt it hurt like  _ ** _FUCK-_ ** _ ! But there was nothing he could do; he’d been on a hook far too many times to count, far too many times to remember, but it still hurt like a bitch every time he was first slammed onto one. _

_ And that Clown fucker had the audacity to  _ ** _laugh _ ** _ at him as he screamed in pain, and tickled the soft part of his stomach as if to soothe over the worst of his agony. It did nothing but make him wince and whistle out a hard breath, aggravating his wounds even worse like the sadistic bastard that the Clown was. _

_ His eyes and mind blurred for a bit, after that. He was dangling and the claws were forming around him, and he dimly thought of Dwight. He was the only one Jake knew was still alive, and last he’d seen him he was hurt from a butterfly knife wound to his ribs. Jake hopes that Dwight’s not stupid enough to try and come down here for him- _

_ But he  _ ** _is_ ** _ . His stupid, scrawny, pain-in-the-ass adorable boyfriend is clunking down the stairs as fast as he could, followed by much heavier footsteps and breathing that did not match the Leader’s. Dwight throws himself down the last flight of stairs, and Jake lifts his head up as much as he can to see Dwight reach his arms out for him, to lift him up and off the hook, but the Clown’s knife connects first and Dwight is forced to the ground with another scream of pain. _

_ The Clown laughs, and Jake wants to kick the killer’s smug face in, but he puts all of his energy into attempting to wrestle himself off the hook and the Clown puts away his bottles and- _

_ Jake is forced to watch as the Clown takes a huge step forward and steps  _ ** _hard _ ** _ on Dwight’s skull, once, twice- the third time cracks his skull wide open, brain and all sorts of head matter scattered across the floor of the basement. The Clown laughs all the while, bending down to pick up one of Dwight’s hand, picking out his middle finger and brutishly cuts it off with a single motion and  _ ** _licks it _ ** _ before pocketing it and staring at Jake still on the hook. _

_ He tries to jump off once more, but fails and the claws fully descend up them.  _

_ Jake lets them take him. He wants to un-see what he just watched, but it’ll never go away, this will ne _ ** _ver e nd you wi ll n e v er lea ve I w i l l h a ve a l l of y o u ….. ---_ **

“Jake!” 

A hand smacks him across the face, and Jake jerks back from the pain and  _ screams _ .

Edward falls back onto his ass, hissing in pain as the edge of the coffee table scrapes the side of his thigh hard and more than likely broke skin by the prickling sensation he feels, but he’s more focused on Jake, and why he’s screaming like he’s being murdered this early in the morning.

In his entire life, Edward’s never known Jake to have nightmares bad enough to make him  _ scream  _ like that, not to mention make him look as terrified as he did at that moment, eyes wide and clutching the blankets, backing up so hard on the sofa he heard the whole piece of furniture creak and threaten to turn over.

When Jake begins to babble incoherently, Edward recovers himself and leaps back to his feet, grabbing Jake by the shoulders and making him pay attention to him with a hard shake.

“Jake! Stop screaming!” He yells at him, disturbed at how  _ scared  _ Jake looks. “You’re fine! I’m here, Jake, stop!”

“No, I want to escape! You can’t-” Another hard slap to the side of Jake’s head stops his rambling cold, and suddenly Edward is looking at much more composed and somber Jake than he was a second ago.

“I-” Jake starts, but Edward cuts him off by pointing a finger in his face.

“What the  _ hell  _ were you dreaming about, Jake?” Edward demands, and Jake tries to twist out of his grasp but his brother has a tighter hold on him than Fort Knox has on the national gold reserve. 

“I don’t... it was just… bullshit.” His mind was still sluggish, but Jake had come to his senses enough to know that he didn’t need to tell his brother about his nightmare like a little child. “Just bullshit.” He begins to deflect. “Everyone has nightmares.” He tries to get up, but Edward is holding him fast. “You can let me go, I’m not a baby.”

“Everyone has nightmares.” Edward repeated with a nod. “But  _ you  _ were screaming at the top of your lungs, Jake. You never do that-  _ oh _ , not  _ you _ , Mister Tough and Aloof Guy. You-”

“Edward, I’m fine!” Jake exclaimes, pushing out of Edward’s hold and standing up, throwing the blankets aside before walking to the bathroom. He  _ may  _ have peed himself just a little bit. “Don’t worry. I have to piss.”

“Jake!” Edward walked around the sofa to grab his brother again to get some answers out of him, but Jake moved faster and locked the bathroom door in his face before he could get ahold of him. 

But he wasn’t giving up  _ that  _ easily. Knocking on the door, Edward still had a few things to say.

Starting with a well-deserved eye-roll. “What did you mean by  _ “I want to escape”  _ when you woke up?” That was just… something Edward was _ not _ expecting to hear when Jake opened his mouth, and it perplexed him.

"Wh-" Jake started, mid-piss and mind still reeling from the nightmare he'd just had. The sharp memories of it were starting to fade, but a dull ache lingered where that hook had pierced his skin. Usually, he'd just brush off nightmares as the manifestations of the horrible human psyche, but  _ these nightmares _ were happening too much and too related to be  _ just _ nightmares.

Jake didn't want to think about what all this might mean. "-I'm fine." He reiterated, tucking himself back into his pants when he was done and washing his hands as Edward went on and on about how Jake was  _ not  _ fine.

Having heard enough, Jake opened the bathroom door a bit too hard and gave his brother the most resolute look that he could make. "Edward, I don't ask you about every nightmare that you have, so you don't need to obsessively ask about mine." He pushed past him, making his way into the kitchen to make some easy toast and tea.

Edward was still following right behind him, though, not yet giving up on the subject. "That's not the point, Jake. You were  _ so  _ scared when you woke up I thought you were about to run right out the front door. You don't get scared l-"

"Thanks, bro." Jake remarked sarcastically, pouring himself a small cup of orange juice when he saw that there were no clean pots to boil the tea in and didn’t feel like washing any in his lazy state. After downing half of it in one go, Jake gave his brother a sideways look and saw him hovering over him in his sleepwear, hands on his hips and lips pursed to say something else that Jake did  _ not  _ feel like hearing.

So he did what he felt like was the only thing he could do to spare himself more headache: capitulate.

Jake waved a dismissive hand at his brother, stopping the incoming tirade. "Okay, okay, you know what? I'll tell you about it later."

Edward shook his head. "No-"

Jake nodded contrarily. "Yes- we have to leave in like 20 minutes to go meet Dwight."

A nicely manicured eyebrow raised up on Edward's head, and he turned to look at the clock to see that it was after 7 a.m. and that they both needed to start getting ready if they were going to meet Dwight by eight.

_ You win _ , Edward thought,  _ for now _ . 

Reaching past his brother, Edward got the toaster plugged in on the counter and pulled the bread down from the cabinet, deciding to eat the same peasant meal his brother was. "Later." He reaffirmed, pointing in Jake's face to get his attention. "No excuses then."

Jake rolled his eyes and snatched two pieces of bread from the now opened loaf and popped them in the toaster. "Noisy bastard." He said none too quietly, and was rewarded with having a nearly whole loaf of bread hit him in the back of the head.

Only a brother who really loved him would hit him with bread with the intent to injure or maim.

\-----

The ride to the hospital was peaceful and quiet until he saw The Thing.

Jake didn't know how else to describe it- well, he actually did, but if he said the other description even internally he feared he would have a complete mental breakdown in his brother's Rolls-Royce.

They were passing over the Quinnipiac River, Jake nearly pressing his face into the window to catch any glimpse of forest or Earth's natural beauty left untouched by man's need to urbanize every speck of forested land because that's what life is really about-

When something caught his eye on the banks of the river, nearly completely obscured by the heavy fog floating just above the water. If Jake had been a lesser man with controlling his emotions, he probably would've screamed  _ again  _ for the second time this morning.

Just  _ thinking  _ about it made him queasy, and no matter how much he tried to put it away into the dark recesses of his mind, the sight came back to him until Jake mentally bit the bullet and admitted to himself-

That he saw a  _ horribly  _ mutlitated horse, a derelict and stained carriage, and the clown from his nightmare earlier cooking something over a small fire and  _ met  _ his fucking eyes, his gray ones meeting empty, pitch black ones, ones that he had looked into when he was-

The clown waved at him, and Jake didn't look out the window anymore, quickly pulling out his phone and letting r/birb distract him from what he saw and resolved to never think about it ever again. He told himself over and over that it wasn't  _ real _ , that he must be sleep deprived and seeing shit because there is no way that it could have been real. Jake didn't know if he could’ve handle it if it was.

"Jake, we're here." His brothers voice drew him out of Reddit, snapping his head up in dizzying time to see where he was- like a dumbass.

"Oh." He said dumbly, staring for a moment too long before pocketing his phone in his thin dark green jacket  _ (thank God it was 62 degrees today) _ and exiting his brother’s car. Waiting until he heard the sound of the car locking behind him, Jake made sure to look both ways before crossing the street, even though he wouldn't mind getting hit by a car right now if it would make him forget earlier.

Edward would kill him if he did that, though, so he made it across the parking lot and into the lobby safely.

And lo and behold, Dwight Fairfield was sitting in a lobby chair, looking as nervous as ever and chewing his fingernails  _ what is wrong with you Dwight you're in a h o s p i t a l- _

"Hey, Jake!" Dwight jumped to his feet and held out his hand for Jake to shake, the same one he had had in his mouth just moments before and Jake stood stock still, the memories of jacking off to the man just last night resurfaced and all the other confusing feelings he had about the man punched and squished his heart into a mushy, unrecognizable pile and Jake decided that it would be better to refrain from shaking his hand.

It wouldn't have been that bad if Edward had shaken Dwight's hand instead, but the elder Park didn't make a move either. In fact, Edward took a step back and pursed his lips together, equally disgusted by Dwight biting his nails and then offering him a hand to shake.

_ How unsanitary and barbaric. _ "I hope we didn't keep you waiting." Edward started, distracting. "Traffic is horrible this time of morning."

"Haha, um…" Dwight awkwardly put his hand away, no doubt feeling snubbed. "Yeah, I've seen it. Luckily, on a bike I can avoid most of it, though."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "You ride a motor bike?"

Dwight face pinched together. "No, just a normal bike."

Edward made a noise in the back of his throat and Jake, for once, started a conversation. "Visiting just started, so we should, uh, get going, right? Simon will be happy to have visitors." Jake all but  _ ran  _ to the front desk and begged the nurse to let them in to see Simon.

Either the nurse was extremely sympathetic to Jake's germaphobic ways or his distressed Shibe Inu look scared her enough that she let them through, reminding them once more of where Simon was and wishing them and their friend luck.

For once, Jake was the one walking briskly, leaving everybody in the dust and rushing to catch up with him. Which was a lot, considering that Edward was half a foot taller than him and had far superior leg length than his younger brother.

“Jake-” Edward had to nearly  _ run  _ to catch up with Jake as they strode towards the double doors of the ICU. “- _ slow down!”  _ He whispered into Jake’s ear, tugging on the sleeve of his green jacket to make him  _ listen.  _ “Simon may be awake- you need to get yourself under control!”

_ Shit,  _ he’d forgotten about Simon potentially being taken out of his medically-induced coma today with being  _ invested  _ in Dwight and all. Shaking his head at his brother’s concern, Jake pushed the doors of the ICU open a little bit harder than he should, having to apologize to a haggard looking nurse whom he nearly brained with the heavy wood. “I’m under control.” Jake starts off nonchalantly. “I’m always under control.” The closer they get to Simon’s room, the louder Dwight’s breathing gets behind him and the  _ less  _ he has control over himself. 

Jake shakes his head and mutters to himself “I have everything under control-”

“Ah, I expected you two!” Dr. Howells, who had just emerged from the hallway of shiny offices and saw the trio speeding down the hall. “I just got an update from the nurses and I can bring Simon out of his sedation today.” The doctor held his hand out, and Edward shook it first before speaking. “Yes, and we brought another  _ friend  _ of ours, Dwight- is that all right?”

“Dwight, huh?” Dr. Howells gave Dwight the  _ look  _ and a glance-over, but didn’t miss a beat when responding to Edward’s question. “I personally don’t have a problem with it, but it all depends on how Simon reacts. If all of you around him is too stressful for him, then I’ll have to ask you all to leave to re-sedate him.” A nurse with a little rolling cart with several needles and a small vial of a clear liquid on its small tray came up behind the doctor and tapped his shoulder, and Dr. Howells turned to see who it was, then gave her a nod and opened Simon’s door for her.

“Nurse Fuller is going in there now to wake Simon up. If you three could wait outside for just a minute, I’ll have to quickly assess Simon’s condition before letting anybody in.” The doctor motioned for the three to stand beside Simon’s door, which they all did without complaint as Dr. Howells, greying hair flapping in the breeze, walked briskly into Simon’s room and closed the door behind him, lock automatically clicking when he did so.

“Wow, uh…” Dwight started when none of the brothers spoke after Dr. Howells left, letting an uncomfortable silence descended upon them. “Medically-induced coma, huh? Guess it  _ is  _ really serious.” To Jake, Dwight sounded like he was having trouble digesting the fact that Jake and Edward were being serious with him over the phone- something that gave Jake a feeling that Dwight had trouble trusting people about serious situations.

He suddenly wanted to punch anybody who would take advantage of Dwight like that.

To distract himself from that sudden urge, Jake hummed the Wii theme music and turned on his heels to watch Dr. Howells and Nurse Fuller talk for a few, brief moments before the needle was picked up off the tray and injected into a tiny port into the crook of Simon's elbow where an IV was inserted. Wincing as the needle was inserted, Jake was reminded of how much he disliked needles and how it made his skin crawl to see anyone get a shot.

After the injection was done, the nurse stood up and nodded again to Dr. Howells, who took a pen out of his lab pocket and flicked a little light on it, and leaned down to pull Simon’s eyelid back and shine the light into his roommate’s eyes.

The result is  _ instantaneous _ : Simon made a miniscule jerking motion, and both the nurse and the doctor jumped backwards, Jake assuming that they didn’t expect Simon to come awake so fast. Beside him, he heard Dwight gasp, and the younger brother quickly looked to his right to see that not only Dwight had joined him on peering into Simon’s room, but Edward as well.

“My, my.” Edward said, looking rather shocked even though he tried to contain it with a dry chuckle. “Someone’s not a morning person.” Jake felt as if that comment was as equally directed towards him as it was towards Simon.  _ Can’t stop with the little quips, can he? I think that’s an addressable medical issue- _

The doctor tried once again to shine the light into Simon’s eyes, but this time Simon swatted weakly at him, moving his lips in words he couldn’t hear and attempting to roll over, but the IV’s in his arm and the wires on his chest preventing him from doing so. Giving up on shining a light into Simon’s eyes, the three watched as the doctor checked the monitors above Simon’s bed, taking a chart from the foot of the hospital bed and reading over it before nodding to the nurse once as they both turned to leave the room.

Dr. Howells held the door open for the nurse who was wheeling the cart out and kept holding the door open and gestured for the men standing outside to go in. 

“He’s awake and responsive and  _ very  _ cranky.” Dr. Howells stated with a weary smile. “I don’t know how much you can get out of him, but he should be stable. I’m going to be right outside the door-standard protocol-if you or Simon need anything, alright?” Edward stepped forward, entering the room first, followed by Jake and then Dwight who gave a shaky “Yes, Doctor” and nearly tripped walking into the room.

_ Clumsy but cute.  _ Jake thought, and nearly bashed his head on the wall of cabinets next to him.

And there Simon lay, still horribly pale and upper torso exposed, covered in large bandaids and various wires, his eyes closed with dark circles underneath them that fluttered when the footsteps of the three men approached his beside. They all three came to a stop, Jake in front and Edward and Dwight awkwardly standing beside each other avoiding eye contact. 

Taking a deep breath, Jake curled and uncurled his fists by his sides and took a few more steps forward. He grabbed a chair by Simon’s bed and pulled it out, the legs of the chair scraping louder than he wanted across the floor and Simon let out a pitiful groan, tossing his head to the side, away from Jake who had just lowered himself into the chair.

Jake waited a few moments for Simon to turn back and face him, but Simon kept his head away from him with the only signs of him being remotely awake was his hand furthest away from Jake coming up to rub at his chest where all the wires and sticky pads were attached to him with adhesive. 

Jake knows from personal experience that those things itch like  _ hell  _ and doesn’t blame him from turning his skin red from trying to dig it off.

His heart is starting to hammer in his chest from anxiety, from the nervousness he felt about talking to Simon about  _ everything  _ that’s happened-  _ what if Simon’s not the same person?  _ Jake swallows hard at that thought, the idea of losing his only friend to some demon making him feel sick and upset.

But he  _ has  _ to say something and not just sit there like a bump on a log, so he deeply inhales once, and his exhale carries the name “Simon?” He reaches out to gently curl his fingers around his roommate’s thin wrist.

Simon stops scratching his chest and lolls his head back to face Jake, eyes lazily opening and looking around, unfocused until Jake clears his throat and speaks again.

“Simon? You all there, buddy?”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed together on his forehead, eyes picking up from where they had been looking at something on the ground and slowly brought them to Jake’s level, and stared at him with painful eye contact.

It took all of Jake’s willpower not to look away, but it was well worth it to see Simon come to his senses while staring at him, as if looking at Jake unlocked a floodgate of memories.

Simon suddenly looked  _ crushed, devastated, horrified- _

“Jake?” Simon croaked out, voice sounding hoarse and painful and Jake had to refuse the urge to wince at the sound.

Jake leaned forward in his seat a little bit, tightening his grip on Simon’s wrist in a comforting gesture.  _ Well _ , meant to be. “It’s okay, Simon.” He said, then added as an afterthought. “We’re all okay.” He implied, getting the impression from Simon’s pained face and eyes that he remembered what he tried to do.

Simon opened his mouth, then closed it after nothing but a whimper came out. The beeping of the heart monitor behind him picked up in tempo as Jake watched Simon’s face crumble and look away, tears starting to leak out of the corners of his bloodshot eyes.

A strangled sound escaped Simon’s throat, and Jake sat there awkwardly as Simon began to cry, arms at his sides with his chin hitting his chest as his thin frame shuddered with sobs. Jake didn’t know what else to do other than continue to sit there and hold Simon’s wrists as the cried to himself in front of everyone there.

_ God, why are friendships so hard? _


	12. Comfortably Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hewwo i live to post again. i finally got the other story done (it will be posted soon!) and I think im ready to work on this again.
> 
> i still appreciate all the support i get on this, especially after all this time! this chapter and all future ones i will try very hard to make shorter (unless its a special, double feature, action-packed one), so not only is it easier to read, but also easier to write.
> 
> if i only wasn't so bad at ending chapters.... monkaS
> 
> anyways, enjoy reading!

While Jake may have been fully content to sit there and let Simon cry his eyes out, Edward was impatient and had things to do that day, so after giving Simon a full minute of crying  _ (honestly, he’d probably cry too if he had woken up to realize that he had nearly killed his brother),  _ Edward step forward to stand by Jake’s side.

“Simon?” Edward interrupted, getting an incredulous look from Jake who mouthed  _ “Are you serious?”  _ to his older brother. Making a jerking motion with his head, Edward dismissed Jake’s question and continued. “Simon, do you think you’re well enough to talk to us?”

Simon let loose an absolutely gross hiccup before picking his head up off his chest and turning to look up at Edward, taking his wrist back from Jake’s hold to wipe away the salty tears from his eyes and cheeks. They all watch as Simon drags in heavy, raspy breaths as he brings himself under control while the seconds tick by, hands shaking as they rubbed at his splotchy face.

“Y-yeah, just-” Simon coughed dryly, his entire frame shaking from the force of his lungs contracting that only served to make him look more pitiful and weak than he already was. “-sorry, it’s… I’m sorry.” Simon’s voice struggled not to break. He looked back at Jake, a sad, forlorn look drawn across his face. “I’m so,  _ so _ sorry, Jake- everyone. I tried to- to stop it, but-”

“You did, Simon.” Jake reassured, meeting Simon’s gaze despite how uncomfortable it made his chest feel. “You did. Do you remember? You controlled yourself long enough for me to restrain you and bring you here?”

Simon opened his mouth, inhaled audibly, and then fisted his hands into his hospital blanket crumpled at his waist. “I do...kinda. It’s…” Simon trailed off, running his thumbs over his knuckles. “..foggy. Like everything was under a thick fog or haze. There are some things I remember very clearly, but then there’s long, dark-” Simon broke off to cough loudly once. “-blanks.”

Edward waited a few moments after Simon had finished speaking before breaking off and fetching another chair for him to sit in next to Jake’s. Simon broke into another small coughing fit when Edward had just picked up his newly claimed chair, and pointed unsteadily to the counter all the way across the room. “Can you-” Simon wheezed out inbetween hacking. “...water?”

“Huh- oh.” Looking behind him, the elder Park saw a small counter-sized water dispenser with little cups in an equally small holder and got Simon a cup of water, handing it to him as he dragged the chair over next to Jake’s. “Here. The doctor said you had some pretty severe esophageal burns.”

The water was a blessing on Simon’s throat and he drank it down in one go- and nearly coughed it up with how fast he tried to drink it, a few drops of water and spit dripping down his chin. “I feel like I swallowed one of those flaming swords.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand not infused with IVs, Simon dropped the cup to his lap, passing it back and forth gently in his grasp.

Simon looked down, deep in thought and didn’t speak again until Edward cleared his throat. Simon made a noise akin to a snort, but it could never be proven in a court of law. “When did this… start?” Edward asked, trying to take a relaxed posture but he was really just  _ barely  _ hanging on the edge of his seat, suspense hanging heavy in the air as Simon’s face cycled through multiple emotions before settling on almost crying again.

There was a long silence as Simon fiddled with his cup before his shoulders moved and he turned to Jake. “You remember the night I said I was going out?” Simon’s eyes flickered down briefly to the tile floor. “To the park?”

Suddenly, Jake wasn’t as nervous as before; replaced with a feeling of dread at the answer he already knew Simon was going to give filled his chest and sunk down to his toes. He knew what was coming before it was even spoken. Jake nodded, a lump forming in his throat and making it impossible to speak words. A raspy sigh came from his roommate. “I… I didn’t plan on, on-”

“I know, Simon.” Jake supplemented for him, taking pride at the slightly relieved look that passed over his friend’s face when he didn’t have to actually say it out loud. Jake could feel his brother’s eyes on him, and Jake turned to see that his brother was looking at him with confusion, eyebrows furrowing until it clicked in his head and his jaw slacked, lips parting in a nearly silent exhale. Behind the two, Dwight had stepped forward, not catching on quite as quickly and was about to ask Simon what he was talking about before the man in question spoke again.

“Just-” Simon coughed loudly once. “-when I got there, I felt, felt so  _ alone _ and  _ empty _ and I-... I don’t know what I was thinking but I felt the worst I had ever felt in my life and I wanted it to  _ stop _ .”

“Simon…” Dwight knew he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knew what a sucidie implication was when it was spoken out loud, and this was pretty loud and clear. He walked past the two occupied chairs and sat at the edge of Simon’s bed, almost reaching out his hand to pat Simon’s leg but refrain from doing so because that might be...well, weird, especially that he and Simon were just acquaintances at best. But still, Simon was nice to him and that instantly made Dwight have a heart for him. “Why didn’t you say anything to someone?”

_ “That’s what got me like this in the first place.” _ Simon said darkly, and Dwight took that as he better keep his mouth shut or he might get eaten or something, so he wisely didn’t say anything else on the matter. 

Simon rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry, just- I really didn’t plan on killing myself. It just  _ happened.  _ I got to the park and I felt so… useless. Lifeless. Like I was nothing but an empty shell of a zombie.”   
  


Edward uncrossed his legs and sat up straight on the actual edge of his seat despite how cool he tried to make himself appear to be. “Did you actually  _ try  _ to kill yourself? Is that how that  _ thing  _ got a hold of you?”

Simon shrugged. “More or less. I think. I got to that pond in the back of the park and I felt so empty and hollow, so I took off my shoes and I was- I was going to drown myself in the water, so I started to walk into the water and I got almost knee-deep when I realized that the water was  _ so cold _ , and oddly enough, that reminded me of Jake and how he complains of cold it always is-” Simon laughed and rambled on, “-and I started to back out of it when…” Simon stopped, closing his eyes and shaking his head vigorously as if trying to shake away a bad memory.

“When?” Jake supplemented.

“Something- I don’t really know what it was- grabbed my ankle and drug me underwater. I remember something dark surrounding me and then… I don’t remember anything else until the next morning when Jake woke me up. I don’t remember getting out of the water, going home, nothing.” Simon had another coughing fit, and Dwight stood up and took Simon’s cup from him, wordlessly offering to get him another cup of water that Simon took with trembling hands.

“That was… a while ago, Simon.” Jake commented, having trouble counting the exact days, but knowing now that his friend hadn’t really been his friend for  _ that long  _ of a time was a lot to take in. “Do you remember the whole thing? Being possessed and all?”

“I-” Simon stopped, face scrunched up in concentration as his throat clicked when he swallowed. “-kinda? Like, I don’t remember normal stuff like going to school or things like that, but I remember doing what She wanted me to do.”

“She?” Dwight asked, taking his spot on Simon’s bed back. “Who’s  _ She?” _

“It- when I asked it who it was, it said I could refer to it as She, like, gender-wise. Anyways- you don’t believe us, do you, Dwight?” The man in question looked shocked at Simon’s accusations, but the expression on his face told him that Simon was right even as he shook his head and denied it. “I-” Dwight started, but Simon waved a hand at the pizza deliverer.

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I don’t think Jake and Edward would’ve believed it either if they hadn’t seen it with their own two eyes.” Simon finished drinking his water and put the small paper cup on the tray beside his bed. “But  _ She  _ wanted me to do...odd things.”

“Like kill Cameron?” Edward interjected, and Simon’s face twisted.

“Not just that. Dwight, I don’t want you to panic but five days ago, you woke up one morning to find your kitchen window unlocked and your dishrag that was hanging on the bar of your kitchen stove on the floor.”

Dwight  _ paled.  _ “H-how did you-?”

“I broke into your apartment.” Simon pinched his lips together. “I’m sorry, She made me do it.”

“It’s fine!” Dwight waved his hands in front of him, but everybody could tell Dwight was the opposite of  _ fine.  _ “But how did you break it? My window is locked- I’ve never been able to get it open since I moved in. And my front door was still locked when I came home.”

“I’m… not really sure.  _ She  _ did it, I guess that's a good way to explain it, but that part is hazy. But I got in through the window and went into your bedroom and painted some sort of a large symbol under your bed.”

“We saw the one you painted under the carpet.” Jake shuddered at the memory. Simon nodded. “I drew the exact same one under Dwight’s bed.”

“How?” Dwight had shoved his fingers back near his mouth to gnaw on them inbetween breaths. “There’s a rug under my bed and the bedframe- it was my grandma's actually- is hard rock maple. It easily weighs 300 pounds!”

Simon leaned back into his hospital bed, closing his eyes and breathing out a heady sigh. “I just moved it. I had super strength- or She did, I assume. I moved the bed and your rug, drew the symbol, moved it all back and then left.”

“When in the world did you do all of that?!” Dwight asked, incredulously and voice raising to a higher pitch than normal.

“I broke in while you were at work.” Simon spoke in a monotone voice, as if he were reciting a dreadful poem from memory as a school project. “Waited in your closet until you went to sleep, then got out and painted the symbols while you slept.”

“Slept? In my bed? You moved my bed and rug  _ while I was sleeping!? How?!? _ ” Dwight had a hand embedded in his hair, tugging hard at his messy dark locks while looking  _ very, very not fine.  _

Simon shrugged again, and flexed his shoulders as a hoarse yawn escaped his throat. “I don’t know, exactly. It got foggy. Like a fog-” Another yawn passed through Simon’s pale lips. “-came in the room. Then I did everything and left.” By the end of the sentence, Simon had fully leaned back in his hospital bed and closed his eyes, and had yet to re-open then when Dr. Howells knocked on the door twice then entered after a moment’s pause, wheeling the small tray from before himself. 

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but Simon’s vitals are beginning to waver all over the place and I need to give him a mild sedative.” Jake saw a small needle on the center of the tray, halfway filled with a clear liquid that he  _ assumed  _ was the mild sedative, and watched as Dr. Howells wheeled it to Simon’s left side. The cart came to a jolting halt, and Dr. Howells swiftly inserted the needle into Simon’s IV port in the crook of his elbow.

“You’ll be getting very sleepy in a minute or so, Mr. Ziegel.” Dr. Howells gave Simon a light pat on his shoulder, and then started to wheel the cart back to the door with a warning to the three other men in the room. “I’m going to take this cart back and then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, okay?” They all three made some sort of affirmative acknowledgement as Dr. Howells closed the door behind him, taking the cart with him.

“I’m, I’m sorry I can’t be much help.” Simon slurred, already starting to sound sleepy. He turned his head to look at the three men, but his eyes were nearly shut and his head lolled on the hospital bed. “I feel a lot better but I jus’… I have phroblems remembering stuffph andf-”

“It’s fine, Simon.” Jake reassured, giving Simon a small pat on the wrist before standing up, ready to get out of the oppressive atmosphere of the hospital room before he gets chronic depression. “We can talk tomorrow, okay? Dr. Howells even said you may get to go home tomorrow.”

“Wifth you.” Simon said, making a drugged and pitiful attempt to return the hand pat Jake gave him, but just ended up twisting his hand all in the sheets. Jake took the cup from Simon’s lap and tossed it in the trash as Simon started to snore raspily. 

“So… I’m freaked out, haha.” Dwight commented, going for the door like he couldn’t get there fast enough and apologized to Dr. Howells who he almost ran into. “Sorry!” Squeaking as loud as his shoes against the tile, Dwight nearly ran past the doctor and didn’t hear the man bid him and the Park brothers a good day- in fact, he was all ready to just hop on his bike and go home when both Jake and Edward caught up to him and held him hostage up against the wall in the hallway.

“Now, you listen here-” Edward, being a solid 6’4 on a good day,  _ towered  _ over Dwight and used the height difference to his advantage. Pointing his finger in Dwight’s bleak face, he made sure to speak clearly. “We are all going to where you live Dwight. All of us-!” Edward gave Jake a look that said he wasn’t going to allow him to interject. “We’re going to where you live, and we’re gonna see if the symbol on your floor matches the one that was in the dorm room-”

“-and if it is?” Dwight interrupted. Edward paused for a moment, caught off guard by the question but resteeled his resolve and opened his mouth.

  
“Then we’re going to have a very  _ long  _ conversation about what is going on and why we’re all in a  _ lot  _ of trouble.”


	13. Laminate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone im back
> 
> also thanks lyedhan  
for helping me edit this ur the best

Dwight was nervous by default, but sitting in the back of a car that probably cost more than what he would make in his entire  _ life  _ made him feel like the human embodiment of a hot pocket. All sorts of meat, vegetables and liquid packed into a bready sack and hotter than the gates of hell that will give you third degree burns.

His fingers drummed against his thigh to keep them out of his mouth, and he was sweating profusely under his collar and his mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert. In short, Dwight was  _ nervous _ . He couldn’t sit still, and he could tell the driver of the car was giving him the stink eye because he was jogging his leg so hard the car was vibrating while they were waiting at a stoplight. A very hard  _ (and a little scary)  _ stare from the elder brother made him still for a few moments, but he ended up chewing on his fingernails instead because he needed  _ some  _ sort of stress-relief.

“I’m sorry we dragged you into this, Dwight.” Jake apologized from the front seat, making Dwight jump and nearly rip his fingernail out of his fingerbed from where he was gnawing on it in between his teeth. Dwight didn’t say anything for a moment in case Jake wanted to say something else, but he noticed the younger brother had his head strictly facing forward.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’s fine, haha.” His mind was racing with the  _ what ifs- what if there’s really some sort of drawing under his bed? Like a portal to hell or something? _ Dwight tries to tell himself that this must all be some sort of cruel joke, but Simon couldn’t have known about the dishrag thing because he never told anybody about it! The rational part of his brain is telling him that this is real, that it must be- but the rest of his brain just can’t believe it because that would mean that Simon really did get messed up like that-

“-you live?” Edward asked, looking back in the rear view mirror at Dwight to see him biting his nails quite viciously and decided that he couldn’t stand the sight any longer, and judging by the way Jake looked a sickly green, he couldn’t either.

Dwight took his finger out of his mouth with a wet  _ pop!  _ “Hmm?”  _ You live? What does he- _

“Where do you live on Edinburgh Street?” Edward reiterates, and Dwight’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Oh, uh…”  _ In the projects, where do you think I live?  _ The next part of his sentence is quieter, suddenly realizing that these two are very, very rich and he’s very, very poor. “Third District Edinburgh Housing.”

Edward makes a little  _ ah  _ noise, but doesn’t say anything else. Dwight knows he just lost any respect that the man  _ might’ve  _ had for him, and it made his heart drop a bit knowing that Jake probably thought of him like that now, too. The blinker sound flipped on as they turned down the street, which quickly deteriorated from the nice, well-kept buildings off the main street into... slum housing, to put it nicely. 

The first few houses weren’t that bad, but they became more and more decrepit before several of them were abandoned. People milled about on the street in front of their houses, dogs barked from every heavily fenced yard and the large brick sign for  _ Third District Edinburgh Housing  _ could clearly be seen over dilapidated cars and dying trees. 

Dwight swallowed, feeling ashamed of having the two brothers drive him out here and that people were staring at them drive by. It was rare that such fancy cars drove by here unless it was for drugs or sex. “I live in building B. You- you can take the first entrance.” If he could melt into a puddle of Dwight goo without staining the leather seats, he would do so to avoid having to look either one of them in the eyes again. The only saving grace that Dwight saw is that there didn’t seem to be a lot of people at the apartments for right now so they couldn’t stare at them even  _ more _ .

The blinker sounded again, and the Rolls-Royce jumped and bounced over the many potholes that the landlord kept promising to fix but never did- the most they ever did was pour gravel or dirt into it and acted shocked when Dwight would complain that it had washed out. The sound of something scraping against the car as they cleared the last pothole made Edward swear out loud and Dwight could see the man scowling in the rearview mirror.

“It’ll buff right out.” If it was meant to be consoling to Edward, it only served to make him more agitated. “I pay good tax money for the state to keep up these roads…” He started, but was cut short when Dwight had to interrupt him. “You can park in those empty parking spaces inbetween those trucks.” His parking space was actually supposed to be where one of the trucks were, but he didn’t have a car, and quite frankly he was reluctant to buy one while he lived out here.

Unfortunately, Dwight forgot to tell him that one of the spaces had a huge sinkhole in it, and Edward rolled right into it. “Fucking-” He swore, and went to throw the car in reverse with an angry jerk, but Jake put his hand on the gear shift first and shook his head. “Just leave it. We won’t be in here long.”

Edward looked insulted. “I am  _ not- _ ”

“Leave it.” Jake gave no room for argument and got out of the car before Edward could fire back a retort. Dwight felt so bad! He couldn’t help it that he lived in such a shitty place, but he knows that the potholes have probably gotten dirt all over the car and scraped the bottom of it- not only was it an expensive car, Dwight actually loved the color of it, too!

He was the last to get out, after Edward had begrudgingly put the car in park and pressed the engine button  _ (that was such a cool feature too- he always lost his keys)  _ and had told him that the back doors were inverted so he didn’t break the car trying to get out normally. The few people who were outside stared at him the moment he got out of the car, pointing and whispering-

“Which one is yours?” Jake came up and asked, pointing to all of the brick apartment buildings only separating to create a small, open alleyway for a flight of stairs. 

He truly felt like a hood rat at that moment. “B104 is mine. The second to last on the right.” He pointed at it, but honestly, pointing at an apartment in this place was as good as a needle in the haystack. They all were small and looked the same except for the amount of clutter in front of their apartment: he may be poor and have bad habits, but the one thing he isn’t is a hoarder or someone with sofas in front of their outside windows. He’s sure if his parents could see him now, they would be sorely disappointed in him.

Dwight ends up leading the charge, taking out his keys with shaking hands as he walks up the sidewalk to his door. His little area was the cleanest around, as his neighbor on the left has five kids and a bike for each, and his neighbor on the right loved having way too many lawn chairs. He finds he has trouble jingling the right key out, so Dwight ends up standing awkwardly at his door, shaking his keys in his trembling hands and nervously laughing.

“Haha, I uh… work at a pizza place so these things can get a little greasy, haha.” He tried to make himself seem cool and collected, but his hands were sweating too much to actually get a good grip on any of his keys-

“Dwight, I will bust down your door if you don’t get your key.” Edward’s voice rose in anger, and a large shadow fell over Dwight as the elder brother stepped up right behind him. 

He  _ miraculously  _ got ahold of his keys in an instant. “Got it!” He held it up so high and fast that he nearly stabbed Edward with his key, and Dwight apologized a few times for it as he jammed the key in his door and swung it open.

Two things instantly greeted him: a sense of foreboding and his cats, dashing across the room to claw at his pant leg. “Hey!” Dwight bent down to give his cats some pets when they got to his legs-

But they went right past him and clung to Jake’s legs instead, rubbing themselves all over his pants and sniffing him. At first, Dwight was a little bit disappointed that his cats just ignored him in favor of rubbing up on a stranger, but then he saw Jake’s face  _ light up _ , and the man knelt on the ugly carpet as soon as he was inside and gave the cats the utmost attention and endless pats and rubs.

It was shocking how the man he had almost always seen as calm and cool was  _ gushing  _ over his pets _ .  _ “Hello!” He said in a much lighter and higher-pitched voice than he ever thought the man could utter. Edward sighs and closes the door behind him with a click, and Dwight reaches around him to lock and chain the door. There’s a lot of people out here who would steal what little he had for scraps. And his cats.

“Hello!” Jake said again as an orange cat with a small medallion around his neck with the name “Mister Pringles” was sniffing and licking Jake’s face. “Hello, you’re such a pretty…” Jake paused and picked the cat up to look at it’s undercarriage. “...boy! And you-” Jake picked up another cat with a medallion that said “Sooty”, a white and grey cat that Dwight fondly remembers taking in from the street when she was covered head to toe in, well, soot. “-you’re so pretty, too!”

Edward cleared his throat. Jake startled and dropped Sooty like she was on fire and looked like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Jake.” He said, holding back poorly concealed laughter. “You can play with the cats later. We have more important things to do now.”

A red flush crept up Jake’s neck, and he put down all the cats and stood up, brushing off the cat hair on his clothes. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He looked at Dwight. “I, uh, like animals.”

Dwight couldn’t help a soft smile creeping up onto his face as he watched Jake swallow and crack his knuckles, something that Dwight picked up on as a nervous trait. Goodness knows how many of them he had himself. “It’s fine. Let’s head to the bedroom!” Dwight announced cheerily- a bit too cheerily, he realized, and he felt his own neck warm up in embarrassment. “To look under the bed- I have to warn you guys, it’s  _ really  _ heavy.”

“I’m sure we can all move it just a few inches.” Edward commented, and then stared at Dwight. Dwight stared back, momentarily forgetting what he was supposed to do because Edward was staring at him with such an intensity that it made his brain misfire for a second. “Yeah.” Dwight fought the urge to bite on his nails, and lurched as he finally remembered that he was supposed to be leading them towards his bedroom.

He couldn’t help but sadly think that this was the first time he had had anybody in his bedroom before. Unless what Simon said was true, but in that case it wouldn’t count because he didn’t invite Simon and he didn’t even know the man was  _ inside- _

“Well, uh…” Dwight stood at the closed door of his room, and opened it only after a brief moment of staring anxiously at the wood whilst thinking about whether it was clean or not. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was actually pretty clean: the only thing that could be considered messy was a few of his work clothes thrown over his dresser and his shoes kicked at the foot of his bed. “...this is it.” Dwight took the few steps into his room, pushing his shoes out of the way and making sure none of the covers were hanging loosely. “My bedframe’s hard rock maple, so we’re all gonna have to lift it at the same time.”

A sudden smirk came upon Jake’s face. “Listen to him, Edward. Don’t want you throwing out your back again.”

Edward straightened up and looked like he had just eaten a lemon drop. “It was a severe muscle spasm because you dropped your gameboy under the sofa and couldn’t wait for Dad to get home-”

As entertaining as it was to watch the brothers argue, Dwight couldn’t afford to spare much time with them today. “Uhh…” His voice came out soft and weak, but when the brothers failed to hear them and their conversation started to turn towards an ugly argument, Dwight raised his voice from a mumble to a commanding tone. 

“As much as I enjoy you guys arguing uh, I have to go to work in a few hours.” He usually didn’t have to work on Sundays, but he was offered some  _ serious  _ overtime pay to work the latter part of the afternoon ship, and he accepted it without thinking. Jake and Edward both stopped immediately, glaring at him as if to say or  _ how dare you interfere in our arguments, peasant?  _ but then both of them had a somber look cross their faces, and Edward grabbed the headboard as Dwight did the same.

“Ed…” Jake warned as he moved to a crouching position at the foot of the bed, sticking his hands underneath the frame to get a good grip. “I’m serious, don’t throw your back out.”

Edward rolled his eyes, and bent his knees more to get into a more comfortable position. “And don’t give yourself a hernia, short stuff.”

“Push on three?” Dwight suggested, cutting through any more potential arguments. Edward raised a single, manicured eyebrow. “I was going to lift.”

“Trust me, no, you’ll end up in the hospital like Simon. Okay, on three? One, two-” Dwight put all of the stored energy in his body into his mid-back. “-three!”

Jake pushed for a fraction of a second and flopped down on the floor, leaving Dwight and Edward to slip their feet across the floor as their lower support gave up. “That’s heavy.” He simply commented, already huffing from exertion. Edward put his hands on his hips. “No shit. Now stand up and help us.” Jake rolled his eyes in response but laughed good-naturedly. “I just didn’t actually expect it to be this heavy. You weren’t kidding, Dwight.”

That made Dwight’s heart beat a bit faster at the recongition, as stupid of a reaction as it was. Nodding, Dwight wiped his hands off on his pants and gripped the bedframe again. “Just push a little bit at a time so we  _ all  _ don’t end up hospitalized, haha?”  _ Why was that a question Dwight are you really THAT- _

“On three.” Edward said this time, and once he counted to three, they all pushed and managed to move the bed a few inches towards Dwight. 

“You think that’s enough?” Both sets of eyes turned to Jake, who had flopped back to sit on his behind while breathing heavily. “What? It’s not like we’re taking the bed frame out. We just need to see underneath the rug.”

Edward huffed, and shook his head. “Needs a few more inches moved. At least. Get off your ass and  _ help.”  _ Jake rolled his eyes yet again, but got back into position and put in all of his effort when the time came to push again. This time, the bedframe moved hard enough that it took the rug with it, and something became visible on the revealed ground.

The elder Park brother saw it first, but didn’t draw it to anyone’s attention with words. His gasp drew Jake’s attention, though. “What?” He asked, ready to fall onto the floor again, but seeing his brother’s wide-eyed face made him stand up on sore legs and he walked around the edge of the bed. His own eyes went wide and he swore audibly.

Dwight didn’t want to go around and look at it, nor did he even ask about it. “C’mon, let's move it one more time.” Maybe if they moved it again, whatever it was that was there would magically disappear. Or maybe it would reveal itself to be dirt stains or dust bunnies-

“Dwight-” One of the brothers started, but Dwight was teetering on the verge of hysterics and asked them again to help him push. The final push revealed several symbols on the floor that were seemingly  _ burned  _ into the hardwood beneath the rug, but since Dwight hadn’t seen it yet, he can pretend that it doesn’t exist-

“Dwight.” The voice was certainly Jake’s, and Dwight noted that his neutral voice was starting to sound a lot like his now. “Look.”

“Look at what?” Maybe if he played dumb-

Edward threw both of his arms up into the air in a dramatic fashion.  _ “Come look at the  _ ** _fucking floor!_ ** _ ”  _ Dwight, scared by the yell, immediately scurried over to stand at the newly exposed area on the hardwood and nearly fainted at the sight of foreign symbols etched into the laminate. It wasn’t anything remotely English or any kind of language he had seen before, and just  _ looking  _ at them sent a rush of dread and fear through his system.

Pressure at his soft pouch of skin where his bladder was told him that he would have to pee soon unless he wanted to further embarrass himself. He was just about to excuse himself when Jake spoke up.

“Well, fuck. This is bad.”

Edward stared at him like he was about to punch him in the gut, and Dwight took the opportunity to slip out of the room and into the bathroom to relieve himself. Peeing time was also a great time to think, and boy does he need to do some thinking. Namely about how  _ fucked  _ he was.

  
  
  
  



	14. Cats & Pee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love the part in Dwight's lore where he pees every 5 seconds. Best part about it and I'm going to exploit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lyedhan again for editing ur the best
> 
> Warning for the ususal stuff, dwight's weak bladder and slightly racist Ed

“So, umm…”

The only thing preventing Dwight from getting up to go pee again was Sooty sitting on his lap, demanding to be petted. In a way, she was making him stay in his seat to face his problems like a man.   
  
“Um, do you mind telling me why there’s strange symbols on the floor?”

Edward was staring at him while Jake was looking down at his interlocked hands on his small kitchen table, refusing to glace up even when Edward cleared his throat.

“Jake.”

The man in question jerked his head up. “What?”

Edward cut his eyes at him. “You explain what happened to Dwight.”

Returning the look, Dwight watched as Jake clenched his hands together on the table. “Why do I-”

“Because-” Edward cut him off, waggling a finger in his face. “-you were there when it happened, not me.” Jake looked visibly distraught, and Dwight almost reached across the table to put his hands on top of Jake’s to calm him down, but he found when he tried to, his arms felt like lead. Eyebrows furrowing together, Jake didn’t like the feeling of  _ anxiety  _ that flared in his chest when he just thought about that night that Simon went crazy. Just the  _ look  _ in his friend’s eyes had haunted him in what little sleep he had gotten and caused him to wake up every few hours.

But Dwight needed to know, because clearly there was something sinister, something…  _ otherworldly  _ going on, and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to Dwight because they left out crucial details. He already thought the man was cute; no need to get him killed.

Jake unclenched his hands when he felt his knuckles aching, watching the skin that had turned white fade into a light pink color. “Well.” Jake kept looking down at him hands, not wanting to face Dwight just yet-  _ what am I, a fucking coward?  _ Inhaling, Jake finally looked up, and saw a gray cat arm laying on the table, relaxed as Dwight scratched behind Sooty’s ears. It made him feel just a little bit better, enough to exhale and carry onwards.

“I’m not gonna… go into extreme details, but Simon had been acting weird lately. Distant, depressed, spacey, but he had changed his medicine dosage, so I figured it was that.” Jake paused to run a hand through his hair and out of his eyes. “But the day that it all happened, I think it was Friday, I decided to hang out with Edward for family stuff and kinda blew off studying with Simon. But he didn’t seem upset about it. He seemed...happy, I guess.” Dwight was looking at him with rapt attention, as if he was telling him some Creepypasta story he found off of Reddit.

In a way, it helped him carry on, knowing that he had someone actually listening to him who would hopefully believe him. “I thought it was weird, but I didn’t think about it for a while until it got dark. Ed offered me to stay the night, but I wanted to try and get some studying done with Simon so I told him to take me back.”

“And?” Dwight asked. “Did he jump you outside, or-?”

Jake shook his head. “I went inside and down to our dorm hallway and this is gonna sound really cliche, but the lights flickered. I kept going, and I started hearing noises and-”

“Noises?” Edward asked this time, startling Jake because he had honestly expected Edward to stay silent. “What kind of noises?”

Shrugging, Jake opened his hands on the table in a show of indecisiveness. “I don’t know, uhh… I guess like scraping noises? Maybe growling? If I had to say it would be more like a scraping sound, but I never heard  _ that kind  _ of noise before.”

“Where was it coming from?” Dwight was  _ definitely  _ going to have to make a return trip to the toilet after this. He watched Jake shrug again- the man’s second favorite movement next to rolling his eyes. “Above me. Like, in the ceiling or air ducts. It sounded like something was scraping across the whole roof. But-” The more Jake thought about it, the more goosebumps crawled all over his skin so he wisely decided to change subjects before he lost his nerve. “-I was really uneasy about going in the room, so I opened the door but didn’t go in, and Simon was sitting on the sofa-” Jake swallowed, the image of how  _ fast  _ Simon moved blurry in his mind’s eye “-with a gun.”

“A gun?” Dwight asked, head tilting forward and accidently scratching Sooty too hard. She swatted his arm for his inconsideration. “Like, what, was he going to shoot himself or-?”

“Simon rambled about stuff. He acted  _ shocked  _ to see me, like he really thought that I wasn’t going to be there. Me and Edward think he was going to kill Cameron.”

“Why do you say that?” Dwight looked between the two brothers, and Edward answered.

“Because Simon evidently told the nurse who was treating him that he wanted to kill Cameron to _ “collect” _ you and Jake.” The air quotes is what made Dwight swallow, and his non-scratching hand went up to rest against his lips. He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by  _ collect,  _ but Jake slapped his palms against the table and sat back to his full height.

“Sorry, we skipped a few parts. Simon had black eyes, superhuman strength-” His neck tingled at the memory of being choked out. “-and threw up black stuff everywhere. And he spoke in like, fucking tongues.”

Dwight stared wide-eyed and mouth open like a fish out of water. It took his brain a moment to catch up. “Sounds like, uh, every horror movie ever.” He offered it as a lighthearted joke, and it made his heart skip a beat when Jake actually let out a single chuckle and agreed with him.

The table went silent for a moment, except Sooty who had decided that she had been given enough attention and hopped off Dwight’s lap, running off into another room. It seemed like a great opportunity to go to the bathroom for Dwight, but Edward put his hand up and motioned for Dwight to sit down, even though he hadn’t gotten up yet.

“You can go pee in a minute. We have to tell you why this is really serious.”  _ How did this man know he was going to go pee?  _ And the tone of voice Edward had only made Dwight have to pee more. “Well, then uh…” Dwight rubbed the back of his neck with the hand covered in cat hair, which he instantly regretted when he felt the thick cat dustings all over his skin and shirt collar. “...go ahead and tell me wh-why this is so serious then.”

“Because-” Jake spoke, stopped to rub his hands together and exhale before continuing. “-I, both me and Edward, think that this isn’t the end of it. Either that thing hasn’t left Simon, or it’s going to try again.”   
  


“I don’t think it’s left Simon.” Edward said at first, drumming his fingers against the table in contemplation. “I was just thinking about this on the way over here, and the doctors even noted it: Simon’s healing really fast for how close to death he was.”

A low groan came from the smallest of the three who had taken to letting his head thump against the table. “Why did you have to say that? I would have been perfectly fine  _ not  _ hearing that. God, I didn’t even  _ think  _ about that- what, are, are you saying the demon inside of him is healing him up super quick just so he can try again?”

“She.”

Jake picked his head up, staring at Dwight with wide eyes. “What.” He deadpanned, and Dwight was beginning to regret speaking.

“Simon, uh, said that it was called a ‘She’, not a he.”

Jake waved his arms around, much like in the manner that Edward did earlier when he yelled at him to come look at the floor. “Yeah, okay, pronouns are important right now-”

“Would you want to piss her off if-”

Edward slammed his open palm on the table to get everyone’s attention focused back on him. “ _ WHAT _ are we going to do about Simon?” He asked, flickering his brown eyes back and forth between his brother and the pizza worker. “He may come home tomorrow, Jake. In fact, I think he will. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, I just-” Jake fisted his hair in a hand, tugging at it as his lips pursed. “-I haven’t thought ahead that far. Watch him, I guess. If he starts acting possessed again, then maybe I can beat him unconscious until we can get it out of him again.”

“Ha, ha, very funny, Jacob-”

“I’m not joking. That’s the best idea I have.”

Dwight put up a smile and pointed at Jake. “I personally think that’s a great, er, start! Although, I would personally restrain him over beating him.” The brothers stared intensely at him and Dwight realized that they were actually taking his suggestion  _ seriously  _ and that he really needed to go to the potty after this was over with.

Jake turned back to Edward. “See? Dwight agrees with me. I mean, seriously, what are we gonna do besides that? It’s not like we can just have a priest on hand to exorcise Simon if that thing comes back.”

“Well…” Edward took a pondering look on his face. “... Dr. Howells did say he knew his wife’s Catholic priest-”

Gray eyes going wide, Jake perked up. “Edward. Are we even Christian?” 

Rolling his eyes and tilting his head, Edward huffed out an indignant gust of air. “Jake, of co-”

Then, all of a sudden, his indignance was gone, replaced with a wide gaze and a move of his jaw. “-I don’t know?” He said it as a question. Edward looked at Dwight for a brief moment before leaning forward on the table and turning back to Jake. “Did we ever go to church? Was I baptized?”

“I really  _ don’t know _ . I certainly don’t remember doing any of that.”

“I mean-”

The sound of a phone ringing startles all of then, particularly Dwight who loses a few drops of pee in his boxers and he hears one of his cats meow loudly in the background. Both Jake and Edward check their pockets, but it’s Edward who pulls out his phone which vibrates loudly in his hand. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” He says, and quickly stands up and heads for the front door. “I’ll be right back in.”

“Edwa-” Jake tries to speak, but the door is shut before he can even finish saying his brother’s name, leaving him alone-

“I’ll be right back!” Suddenly, Dwight is leaping up and running for the bathroom down the hall again. Jake hasn’t even seen it yet, but with how much Dwight has peed since he’s got here he feels like he would recognize the place in an instant.

Just a few moments after Dwight leaves for the bathroom, Mister Pringles hops down from a counter and saunters over to him, jumping in his lap and rubbing itself on his lap. “Hey.” Jake softly speaks to the cat, who purrs when he drags his hand over the cat’s exposed belly. “I hope you don’t pee as much as Dwight.”

“ _ Meow _ .”

“Probably  _ would  _ be a serious medical issue, you’re right.”

_ “Meow.”  _

“ _ I know _ , you would be  _ so stinky  _ if you peed like Dwight did. He’s-” He’s standing at the entrance to the hallway, tucking his shirt back into his pants and  _ smiling  _ at him, and something does a somersault in Jake’s chest and lands in his throat that chokes him. He’s equal parts embarrassed, flustered and finding the simple act of Dwight tucking his shirt in to be cute. 

_ Mister Pringles is a troublemaker, got it.  _ Jake shoos the cat off his lap, and stands up straight, willing the airy feeling in his chest to go away. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just stands there and looks at Dwight while Dwight stares at him.

While Jake is having a staring contest, Dwight is having a coming to Satan moment because if his parents knew what he was thinking right now, they’d send him to Hell themselves. He had  _ seen  _ Jake before, and always thought that he looked  _ nice  _ in his Yale uniform, but now that he’s seeing him not in it, Dwight finds Jake to be… way more than  _ nice  _ looking. He’s hot, to put it bluntly- gray eyes, not extremely muscular but sturdy, smooth skin that girls would kill for themselves and olive skin with black hair that screamed  _ mysterious  _ to Dwight. Call him a hopeless romantic, but if Jake was as tall as his brother, he could be the next Fabio.  _ A better one.  _

Really, this man would be wasting talent if he wasn’t a supermodel.

The front door opened, and Edward hurriedly shut it behind him. “I’m sorry-”

Edward stopped talking when he noticed Jake and Dwight staring at each other for a full second before turning to look at him when he announced his presence.

“Are you two okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Quickly collecting himself, Jake nodded at his brother and quickly strode over to stand beside him, avoiding eye-contact with Dwight.

“Oh, if you two want to go, then go!” Dwight was assuming that he had just completely made himself look like a drooling idiot in front of Jake and now the man couldn’t stand him, and it was clear that Edward was… not used to the poorer side of living. And honestly, Dwight didn’t blame him: he didn’t want to live here either, but until he either got a pay raise or a better job, he didn’t have much other housing options.

_ Way to go, Dwight! You blew it again, as usual. _

“We actually do need to go, Jake.” Edward spoke lowly to his brother, leaning down to whisper it to him before straightening out. “Family business. But, I was going to give you mine and Jake’s number in case anything  _ else  _ happens so you can contact us.”

It seemed almost surreal that someone was offering  _ Dwight  _ their  _ phone number.  _ He also didn’t realize what they were saying. “Oh, ummm… yeah! Yeah, uh, hold on, I’ll add you to my contacts!” Pulling out his phone so fast it nearly slipped out of his hands, Dwight made quick yet shaky work of pulling up the contacts page and entering Jake and Edward’s number in his phone while the brothers did likewise. A million scenarios ran through his mind of what could happen now that they all had each other numbers, scenarios both good and bad, cringey and not cringey-

“Is there anytime that I  _ shouldn’t  _ call?” Dwight asked to ground himself and to set boundaries. Boundaries were very important. “Like, 3 on a Saturday afternoon?”

“If it’s  _ that  _ important, then no. Call anytime.” Edward nodded, already pocketing his phone and reaching for the doorknob. “Same with Jake. Say goodbye, Jake.”

Large eyebrows raced away into his hairline. “Uh?” He knew his brother hated to be seen... associating with the  _ dredge  _ of life, but his brother didn’t just run out the door like this unless there was something wrong.  _ Was there something wrong?  _ Even still, just leaving on such short notice on Dwight like this made Jake feel bad for the man who clearly didn’t have much companionship besides his cats, so he said something really stupid as Edward partically dragged him outside.

“Sorry- goodbye, Dwight. I’ll call you later!”  _ Why the fuck did I say that. Why in the everloving FUCK did I say that? That sounded really gay or like I’m going to call him later to set up a date oh God what have I done- _

“O-” The sound of the door cut off the syllable. “-kay.” Dwight sighed, and trudged over to put the second lock on the door while his cats ran rampant across the floor. He didn’t blame them for leaving so quickly- he really did live in a rough neighborhood, and with such a nice car they have, it was more than likely to get stolen the longer they were here. It was sad, but so was his life-

But Jake said he would call him later! That thought alone gave him a little bit of hope in his heavy chest, even though he told himself that Jake probably just said it in an apologetic sort of way for leaving so suddenly. That showed him at least that Jake felt bad for leaving on such short notice- felt bad  _ for him.  _ And who wouldn’t? His life really, really sucked ever since he got fired from Peak 22, and even before then it sucked.

Oddly enough, this was the most exciting thing that’s happened to him ever since leaving his family’s farm in Iowa, despite it also being the most dangerous thing. If it was even real, but Simon  _ was  _ in the hospital and the doctor’s words stuck in his mind… if this was a prank, it was a very elaborate one. Dwight wants to believe everything he’s heard so far is true, but it all sees too...fantasy-like to be. 

But that symbol under his bed; just thinking about it sends a shiver up his spine. Simon is so skinny he probably couldn’t move his kitchen table without breaking a sweat, much less his bed. And God, how was he going to clean it up?! It took all three of them to scoot it just a foot or two, and he knew there was much more underneath the rug that they didn’t see.

The only question is: does he want to drink a beer before work to unwind or try to scrub the demon shit off the floor? Mister Pringles comes up to his leg and rubs himself on him, and Dwight decides on the former. Hopefully he won’t be too tired after work.

~~~~~

Edward was running faster than Jake had ever seen him run in P.E.. Jake was pulled by his elbow down the sidewalk towards the car… where he noticed some people standing in the street a little too close to the car for his liking.

_ “Get in.” _ Edward hissed into his ear and let go of his arm as the sidewalk dropped off to the pavement. Jake almost lost his footing, but quickly got into the car and tried not to look at the people who were staring at them like they were royalty from another country. Disliked royalty. The second Jake had shut his door, Edward hit the locks on the door and started the car without a word and threw the car in reverse.

“Ed-” Jake tried to say, but the tires squealed so loudly that his voice was lost in the sound. In the back part of his mind, it was almost unbelievable that Edward would treat his precious Rolls-Roycle in such a careless and callous manner, but figuring the neighborhood they were in, Edward was probably spooked about leaving his car out of his sight for five seconds.

Once the car had gotten out back on the main road and away from the poorer housing areas, Jake turned to his brother who was still clutching the steering wheel hard enough that the leather on it was crinkling. “Edward, that was rude to leave Dwight like that.”

“I know it was  _ rude,  _ but did you see the riff-raff surround my car?!” Jake thought that his brother's voice bordered on the edge of hysterical. “When I went out to take that call earlier, there were a lot more of them surrounding my car like a piece of meat- some of them were even touching it!”

“Oh, Ed, I’m sure you’re overreacting-”

“Jake, there were  _ black people  _ eyeing my Rolls-Royce for  _ parts- _ ”

“Just because they were  _ black people-” _

“They were the kind of  _ black people  _ who were going to dismantle my car with or without me in it and steal everything I have. Probably murder me, too.”

“Then why don’t you, oh, I don’t know,  _ not  _ drive in a Rolls-Royce all the time and maybe people wouldn’t want to steal your car?”

“People always want to take everything you have, Jake. That’s how the world is.”

“God, you sound so much like Dad right now-”

“Well, he’s right about it. People will always be trying to pull the wool over your eyes and take you for everything you have, Jake.”

Not gracing his brother with a response, the younger of the two chose to simply look out the window while the elder drove  _ somewhere _ . His mind was wandering as they drove through endless lines of traffic that he wished would just disappear so he could actually see something that wasn’t walls and concrete and city lights. Then again… the last time he looked out the window at nature, he saw that  _ thing _ , that Clown and horse looking thing by the banks of the river from his dreams. 

But, he had to have been dreaming or having some post-dream hallucination because if it had actually happened… well, he’s not sure what it means, but it wouldn’t be good. He was just hoping tonight he wouldn’t have any more bad dreams so he could be ready to deal with Simon if he was allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow.

_ “In a new study out of Canada, scientists say that they have engineered a new type of antidepressant through selective plant breeding that appears to only cause mild nausea when compared to the many other side-effects other antidepressants are known for. Lead scientist and head Biologist at the lab Claudette Morel offered-” _

Jake hadn’t even really been paying attention to the radio, but the name  _ Claudette Morel _ … did something to him. It gave him a feeling like he  _ knew  _ that name, yet he couldn't quite place a face or anything to the name. It was like he knew  _ just  _ the name and nothing else.

And, weirdly enough, he even knew what her  _ voice  _ would sound like before he heard her speak over the radio. He knew she would have this soft voice with a heavy French accent that sounded on the verge of breaking altogether, would occasionally waver, but always held strong. 

He must’ve been making some crazy face because he felt a tap on his shoulder as he listened to the radio. “Jake, what kind of face are you making?”

“Nothing.” He said reflexively because he didn’t want to seem like some sort of nut- more than he already was. “I was just listening to the radio.”

“About drugs.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jake, you know I don’t believe that one bit.”

“I was just listening, alright? For Simon.” That was a lie. He just thought of the man’s name to make a lie with it

Edward raised a slender eyebrow at him while still keeping his eyes glued to the road lest he get a single scratch on his car. “Simon doesn’t have depression.” He said matter-of-factly, and Jake saw the hard look on his face that said he wasn’t going to let this go.

_ Why does he have to be so persistent about shit?  _ Jake rolled his eyes in defeat. “Okay, fine, I- I thought I recognized a name on the radio. There, are you happy?”

“Yes, I am! Jake, we just told Dwight that we could call each other if anything else  _ freaky  _ happens, and that includes you telling me if something freaky happens with you.”

“It wasn’t weird! It was just… I really recognized her name. I don’t know where, but I did.” Not to mention he knew what her voice would sound like because  _ that’s normal- _

Edward switched the car to autopilot, something he rarely did unless he needed to write down something for business, and picked up his phone. “What was the name?”

Narrowing his eyes, Jake huffed out a breath of air. “Claudette Morel. And no, I don’t know how to spell it.”

“Don’t need to. Apparently she’s a biologist and botanist in Canada. Pretty young, too, to be making discoveries like she is. Only 23.”

“What, are you going to set me up with her?” Jake joked.

“Don’t tempt me, you little shit. Anything  _ else  _ you want to tell me about?”

“No.” Jake had a feeling deep down that he should probably tell him about the voice thing, but he  _ just didn’t.  _ Things were already bad enough as it was and he didn’t need to make it worse. “Hey, we’re we going?”

“Food. And carwash. Where do you want to eat?”

“Chicken sandwich at Popeye’s-”

“Haha, you’re funny-  _ no _ .”


	15. Social Braincells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake has a good cleaning time.
> 
> thank u once again lyedhan for editing this without him this wouldnt be here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for jake smoking w33d, traumatic memories and gay/lewd behavior.

They ended up at the Shake Shack drive thru for _ far _too long because some underpaid employee forgot to put mustard on Edward’s sandwich.

“Listen, I pay six dollars for a burger that I _ expect _to have mustard on-”

“Edward, we have mustard at _ home-” _

“It’s not the same!” To be fair, it wasn’t, but that didn’t mean Jake wanted to sit in the drive thru line for another five minutes while the employee remade the whole burger. 

“Look, just give us some mustard packets, please.” Taking control of the situation, Jake leaned over his brother and told the window person the easiest way to remedy the situation, who to his profound relief magically conjured up six mustard packets and handed them to him.

“Thank you.” Jake tossed the mustard packets into the bag of food and eagerly took his shake from the small tray they were served, sucking on it as soon as he managed to poke the straw through the hole at the top.

Edward was still pouting as they pulled away to go to the carwash that he always took his Rolls-Royce to a few blocks away. “I ordered mustard _ on it- _how difficult could it be?”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“It’s one thing if it’s a McDonald’s or Burger King, but this is Shake Shack, which _ proudly _ boasts about their _ gourmet _burgers-”

“You’ll live. _ Drama queen.” _The last part faded away into the noisy sucking of his milkshake, but judging by the noise his brother made, he heard it all the same. The two fell silent as they entered the car wash and Edward paid some guy with a beanie and a full beard 15$ to have his car washed.

“So, what was the _ family business? _ You saw someone get a little bit too close to your _ baby-” _

“In case you forgot, someone _ actually _did call, Jake. And it was Mom.”

Jake stopped sucking on his shake instantly. “Mom? What did she want?”

“She wanted to tell us that her and Dad are flying in this weekend for a parent-teacher meeting at Yale.”

Jake blinked. “And you didn’t tell me _ why?” _

Huffing, Edward fiddled with the silver ring on his finger- a gift from his father for his birthday last year. He wasn’t too big on jewelry, but the emerald on top was radiant even when it was over 60 years old. And originally made for his grandmother. Jake always picked on him for having such dainty fingers. “Because I forgot _ myself _ until she called and reminded me. And don’t even _ think _about getting out of it this time, Jake- this is mandatory.”

“Motherfucker.” It wasn’t that his grades were bad, Jake just didn’t want his father even _ more _involved in his life than he already was. What possessed Simon told him about being his father’s lap dog played in the back of his mind and Jake didn’t like it one bit, so he sucked his milkshake hard enough to give him a brain freeze so he couldn’t think about it anymore.

Simon was right. He really should tell his father to fuck off more. He didn’t want to end up like Edward, God forbid. And that’s when the brainfreeze kicked in, and Jake couldn’t think anymore for the rest of the ride back to his dormitory.

“You sure you’ll be alright in here, Jake?” Edward asked, finger hovering over the unlock button.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Simon’s not home now. The worst thing is that could be inside is Cameron is passed out naked on the counter in there. Plus if Simon is really coming home tomorrow then I need to spruce the place up. I doubt it’s been cleaned.”

Letting out an exhale, Edward unlocked the door for his brother, but not before delivering a warning. “Don’t be afraid to call me, Jacob. For anything.”

For once, Jake refused the urge to roll his eyes at his brother being overprotective. “Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow.” He closes the door a little bit too hard and hears Edward protesting inside the car, but Jake ignores it and briskly walks away. 

There’s people out and about now, and for once it fills Jake with relief when compared to the night Simon got possessed and the place was deserted. A couple of people wave at him and he waves back, but nobody asks him about Simon and it’s mildly surprising. But then again, it wasn’t- Simon didn’t have any friends besides him, and nobody really ever bothered for him. Jake envied that a little bit because sometimes people wouldn’t leave him alone; always trying to get into his good graces for favors they _ imagined _they would get from being his friend.

He wonders when people will figure out that he doesn’t want to be their friend; he only wants them to go pass out in a ditch somewhere and _ leave him the hell alone. _

The thought runs over in his mind until he reaches his floor and sees something that twists his insides: the Yale maintenance crew stapling down new carpet. Normally Jake wouldn’t pay any attention to something so mundane as replacing carpet- but he knows _ why _they’re replacing it. One of the maintenance people sees him standing there like a bump on a log and waves at him. “You can walk through here.” He says, mistaking Jake’s hesitance as caution to walk on the new carpet. “Ain’t wet or nothin’.”

He blinked owlishly. “Oh- um, thanks.” Tilting his head down as a flush of embarrassment crosses over his cheeks, Jake hurries to his dorm room and makes sure none of the maintenance crew is looking at which room he enters before he puts his key in the lock. Just in case there’s any questions about why he’s entering the room that would clearly be the source of all the mysterious stains on the carpet.

But when he sees just _ who’s _in his dorm room, Jake finds that he’d much rather be held for questioning outside than talk to Cameron. It’s too late to leave, he concludes, as the door locks behind him, and he finds himself face to face with the most dreadful roommate to exist.

Cameron DePlaquemines.

He sees that there's a mop in Cameron’s hand and a large plastic bucket several feet away from him on the floor, filled with a dark gray liquid that almost makes Jake retch himself. The rug that was in the middle of the floor was gone and nowhere to be seen, and the shattered coffee table bits were gone as well. The only conclusion that Jake has is that Cameron had been cleaning. Which is nearly _ unfathomable _ because Cameron rarely _ (a.k.a. never) _ cleaned up after himself.

“Park- Jake.” Cameron says, putting the mop he was holding in the large bucket and walking towards him. “You, uh, mind explaining to me what the _ fuck _that black stuff was everywhere and out in the halls?”

Jake usually was good at coming up with stuff to say on the spot, and this time was no exception. He put his hands up in an innocent gesture. “I don’t know, man.” Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Cameron to even _ find out _ what was going on because he just assumed the man would be partying out all weekend like he usually does, so it’s utterly _ shocking _ to him that not only he’s _ here _, but been here long enough to clean up.

Feigning ignorance is always his go-to strategy. He elaborated when Cameron narrowed his eyes at him. “I’ve been with my brother all weekend until now, and the only thing I was told that there was some kind of spill out in the halls. Did it start in here?”

“Yeah, it sure did! I had to look like an _ idiot _ in front of the, like, superintendent janitor when I couldn’t explain where all of this came from, not to mention the broken coffee table and the vase- and everything else! You’re lucky I had people who could vouch for me being out that night or _ else _I’d really be mad at you, Park. And why the fuck is Ziegler in the hospital?”

“Simon has meningitis.” Good thing he remembers the doctor’s little white lie. “I- I guess this is from that-”

Cameron rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest which pissed Jake off that Cameron, as usual, had to _demand answers _because he was too dumb to figure stuff out on his own. If his family didn’t have massive trade stock in New Orleans and if Cameron wasn’t a good football player, he wouldn’t be here. “That’s bullshit, Park. We both know that. This black stuff doesn’t come from meningitis. And neither does the broken coffee table. Park, if you have even a _theory _of what happened here, you better tell me.”

“Look, Cameron, I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t have a fucking theory or whatever you _ think _I may have. Now look, Simon really has meningitis because I personally went to the hospital to see him. On the way here.” He added as an afterthought in case Cameron brought up the fact that Jake said that he had been with his brother the whole weekend. “Look, I’ll help you clean up, but I-”

Cameron took a step backwards, and pointed at the symbols on the floor. The symbols that he and Edward uncovered when they had come back to his dorm room. But at the time, they hadn’t uncovered the whole thing like it was now so this was the first time Jake had seen it fully. And he really wished he hadn’t: just _ seeing _ the circle of symbols on the floor made his heart turn to a block of ice and his palms sweat. Granted, they were nowhere near as prominent as before and looked to be somewhat smeared on the hardwood, but his skin was crawling just _ knowing _it was there.

“Then can you tell me what the fuck is this, then?” Cameron asked, and Jake could hear the uncomfortableness in his voice as he spoke. He didn’t blame him.

"I don't know.” Swallowing loudly, Jake wished that Cameron would stop talking and just _ clean it up _ so he never had to look at it again. 

“You don’t _ know _ !?” Cameron’s voice really _ was _teetering on the verge of unhinged desperation for answers. “I don’t know much about religion, but that’s some fucking demonic shit on the floor there!”

Jake rolled his eyes, but it was half-hearted at best. Cameron didn’t take that so well. “Bro, this is some fucking demonic shit. I ain’t about to get involved with this, man. I’ve mopped this area for like 15 minutes and it still hasn’t come up all the way.” When Jake only sighed in response, Cameron walked over to his _ designated chair _and picked up his jacket and keys, heading towards the door. “I’m not getting involved in whatever demon shit is going on in here.”

“Cameron, there’s no-”

“I don't care if there is or not, I’m not getting involved in it! I’ve watched too many horror movies to know what happens when you mess with that shit, so I’m leaving. You can clean up the rest- I’ve done most of it. I’m going to chill with my girlfriend.”

_ Was he seriously leaving? _“You’re-”

“Yes. Bye.” Cameron said without even knowing what Jake was about to say, threw open the front door and slammed it behind him before Jake could speak another word. The vibrations of the door closing made Jake shiver, knowing that he was now the only person left in the room with those _ symbols _still etched on the floor.

“My life sucks ass.” Jake said to himself out loud, and took off his jacket and laid it on the kitchen counter as he took stock of the situation. Despite Cameron never cleaning up after his own messes (_ and he made plenty) _, he had evidently cleaned up most of the black stuff. What was really left was a few shards of broken vase left in a pile and a few stray black spots scattered in various places.

Nothing too major. He could handle it without having an internal crisis. Maybe. Rolling up his sleeves, Jake walked over to pick up the mop out of the bucket and went straight to trying to mop up the symbols. They stared at him, and he stared back.

~~~~~

Over an hour later, Jake dumped the last bucket of dirty water into the bathtub and rinsed it out with a breath of relief that he was finally finished. He’d left the vase scraps for last because it was just a matter of sweeping them into the trash, but the symbols had finally, _ finally _come up after nearly three quarters of an hour mopping and scrubbing them, save for a few spots. Unfortunately, it did leave some vague symbol-shaped stains in the hardwood, so Jake made a note on his phone to go to the store tomorrow morning and get a nice but cheap one to replace it.

Tossing the bucket back in the linen closet with the still busted door, Jake added door hinges to the list of things he needed to get and shuffled back into the living room. Tiredness creeping into his bones, Jake knew he should probably get a bath before taking a break, but his muscles and joints were screaming at him from these past few days and laziness won out.

Running his hand on the vinyl to make sure there weren’t any hard to see spots he missed, Jake flopped down on the sofa dn closed his eyes. Taking a few moments to himself, Jake lets his muscles relax as he solely focuses on breathing. In... and out. In... and out. Slowly. In... and out. In... and out-

His stomach made a really gross gurgling sound, which reminded him that he had hardly eaten anything today besides a burger and a milkshake. But he isn't too hungry, like he needed to break out the pots or pans or anything, so Jake forces his body off the sofa and heads to the pantry. His choices aren’t that great, but a pack of crackers catches his eyes and he deems it a proper snack, snagging a six piece pack and taking it back to the sofa.

Although… Jake remembers that he has a little bit of weed left, probably just enough for one small joint- and that’s all he wants, really. Tossing the cracker pack on the sofa, Jake walks back into his room to get the safebox out from the depths of his messy closet and unlocks it to retrieve his stash of marijuana and ashtray.

Within minutes, Jake has a blunt the size of his pinky lit and in between his lips, smoke trailing upwards towards the ceiling and his mind going blissfully calm and quiet. There wasn’t nearly enough weed in the joint to get him really stoned, but it took the edge off the stress of being in here and it made the rather traumatic memories of his last night here much easier to bear. He practically inhales the drug in two hits, and as soon as the lit end is crushed in the ashtray, he rips open the cracker pack and shoves one in his mouth.

_ He immediately _almost chokes on it. Jake spits the cracker back out into the pack and coughs until his stomach hurts and reminds himself that he doesn’t need to choke to death while he’s clearly smoking weed. The cracker goes back into his mouth, much more slowly this time and with much more thoughtfulness when he chews on it.

His mind wanders off as he munches on his snack. He had some homework this weekend, didn’t he? Some vague computer homework he can’t be fucked to remember now- but he knows he had it. When was it due? Tomorrow or Wednesday? Whatever, really. He’ll just bullshit his way through it like he always does and somehow get a high grade. That was his specialty.

By the 4th cracker, Jake feels himself getting sleepy. Even though he really wanted to get a bath after cleaning up, after he finishes off the last of the crackers his eyes can barely keep themselves open and sleep is _ so inviting. _His hand reaches out to put the cracker pack on the coffee table before he realizes that such a piece of furniture doesn’t exist anymore, and he settles on putting the plastic wrapper on the small end table next to the sofa where his ashtray was.

His head hits the small pillow behind it, and Jake falls asleep a few moments later, falling in darkness that never seemed to end. _ He was weightless, or felt like it, as everything was black and dark around him. There was nothing, but he felt as if the longer he was there, the more he was suffocating, not only breath-wise but mentally, like a snake was wrapping around his head, his heart, his limbs- _

He fell against the sofa- or maybe the sensation in his dreams carried over to real life- either way, Jake’s head thumped against the pillow behind him as a loud sound came from _ everywhere _. Brain still weed-addled, Jake looked around dumbly for the source of the ringing noise until he realized that his pants were vibrating. Pants aren’t supposed to vibrate.

Reaching into several pockets before he picked the right one, Jake pulled out the device that was making his leg feel tingly- his phone. _ Duh. _Shaking his head, Jake blinked away the fuzzies in his eyes and stared at the number, answering it without thinking with a slurred greeting.

_ “Jake?” _

Jake, abruptly, became wide awake. “Simon? Hey, are you okay?”

_ “Yeah, I feel a lot better after you visited- thanks.” _ Simon actually _ did _sound a lot better, though his voice was probably as hoarse as his was right now. Jake cleared his throat before continuing. “Is there, uh, anything you need?”

_ “Yeah, actually- the doctor said as long as I stay this good throughout the night, I can come home tomorrow. I’ll need you to come pick me up.” _

“Good! Uh, good, uh-” Struggling for words, Jake sat up on the sofa and ran a hand over his face, shaking his head once again to banish the sleepiness that was still lingering in his skull. “-fuck, sorry I just woke up.”

_ “I figured.” _ He could hear the smile in Simon’s voice and it instantly made Jake feel a little bit better, like his old self- before all of this shit happened. _ “If you could be here by 9 tomorrow morning, that- that would be good. I want to get out of here as quick as I can.” _

Jake laughed at Simon’s hypochondriac nature. “I don’t blame you. But yeah, I’ll text Edward and tell him to be there.” At this point, Jake thought the call was near its end and was moving the phone away from his ear to bring up the text messages screen, but suddenly Simon’s tone of voice changed.

_ “Jake, I’m sorry. For everything. I-I know you may not want to hear it now, but I just wanted to let you know… I’m sorry.” _

He put the phone back to his ear. “I know.” He did. He really did. He didn’t blame Simon for anything that happened, and had already accepted his apology both verbally and internally. “I know.” He repeated, not quite knowing what else to say. Thankfully, Simon spoke for him.

_ “I just want you to know. My parents haven’t called in or anything- speaking of that, do you have my phone?” _

“I think so- me or Edward, one of us.”

_ “Good. My parents haven’t called or texted, have they?” _

Jake pursed his lips. “He hasn’t said if they have. I think he would’ve said if they did, though.”

_ “Figures.” _ Simon mutters on the other end before he sighs heavily, the weight of the world on his shoulders and sounding morbid. _ “The hospital- and I- have left so many messages on my parents’ personal cell. I guess they’re too busy having fun in Bermuda to pick up the phone to know that their son nearly died in the hospital.” _

Jake didn’t say anything. He had thought about Simon’s parents and whether they actually gave two shits about him being in the hospital. Clearly, they didn’t give two shits about him _ at all. _Hell, he may fight with his own father most of the time, but he knows his Dad wouldn’t do that, just ignore him in the hospital to go on an exotic vacation somewhere.

And he thought his relationship with his father was shitty; it pales in comparison to what Simon has to go through._ “Sorry to get like that.” _ Simon apologizes. _ “I just… wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Even be-before all of this happened. You’re really the only friend I have. The only person who cares about what happens to me- besides my little sister of course-” _ He can hear the hint of a smile on the other side for a moment, but it’s gone when Simon speaks again. _ “-but my parents will surely turn her against me one day as well.” _

Jake still doesn’t speak._ “Jake, are you still there?” _

“Yeah, yeah, I just-”

Simon chuckles and shifts on the other end of the phone line. _ “You’re not very good at talking to people, I know. Not to be gay, but I really do care about you, too. No homo.” _ He adds at the end when Jake inhales, and he blames the weed on making his eyes prickle and dampen. “Thanks. You too.” He says, because he’s really at a loss for words as well. Simon is a good friend, despite everything, and honestly deep down, he could say the same thing about him. Well, _ almost _the same thing.

_ “Also, before I let you go- do you, um, have the gun?” _ Simon asks, voice getting lower near the end and Jake understands why. He nods. “I do. It’s-”

_ “No, no, I don’t want to know.” _ Simon interrupts. _ “In case… w-well, shit hits the fan again. If I don’t know where it is, the safer you’ll be.” _

Nodding again in silent understanding, Jake stands and groans when his back pops loudly. He hears Simon made a disappointed noise on the other end._ “I hope that wasn’t your joints making such a racket. You’re in real trouble, old man.” _

“Oh, look who’s talking.” Jake smiles as his shoulder pops when he shifts the phone against his ear._That _one felt good. “Need anything else?” He asks Simon, already thinking about what he needs to grab for his bath.

_ “No, I think I’m good for now. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” _Simon gives a soft-spoken goodbye, and Jake responds in kind before the line disconnects and leaves him staring at his phone clock that tells him it’s nearly 4:30 in the afternoon. Perfect time for a late afternoon bath before he finishes gussying up the place for Simon tomorrow.

Relieved that the bathroom is actually clean looking _ (as in there’s no suspicious fluids from anyone anywhere to be seen) _, Jake grabs his towels and makes sure the bathroom door is locked before starting to undress. A few crumbs fall to the floor from his snack earlier, and Jake makes a mental note to vacuum it up later as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it on the empty towel rack-

He catches the bruises around his neck staring back at him from the mirror. Jake caught a glance of them off and on, but this was the first time he actually had a chance to stop and stare back at them. It was clear that the bruises on his neck were finger shaped, particularly the four dotting the ligaments on the left side of his throat stood out the most. The thumb print on the right, though, was just as easily noticeable as the others were. They had just started to fade from a red to a bluish-red, and the outer edges of the bruises of them had even faded to a deep purple color.

God, he looked like a choked-out slut. He’s glad no one has really seen him like this yet.

Jake poked the thumb print with his index finger, and cringed at how _ sore _ it felt. It had been a dull, pretty much ignorable ache, but now that he touched it, they all started to hurt. _ Dumbass. _Not only did it now hurt bodily, it hurt mentally- the vivid images of Simon grabbing him by his neck and lifting him up in the air, telling him how stupid he was. The pressure and squeezing around his windpipe as he struggled to get a whisper of oxygen into his lungs-

No, no he didn’t need to think about that. Simon was going to be home tomorrow, and he didn’t need to have a crisis everytime he thought about that night. Stripping off the rest of his clothes made that difficult, though, because he caught sight of how red his feet, shins and thighs were still after that black stuff had seeped through his clothes. Speaking of that, he needed to get rid of them because he didn’t even want to _ try _and get that out of his clothes if it was going to leave marks like this. He looked sunburnt, and some of his skin was even peeling and was still warm to the touch. And yet again, touching it only made it feel worse.

Not checking to make sure he wasn’t growing a tail out of his ass, Jake hopped in the shower and let the warm water wash away his trauma and stray thoughts, staying under the hot spray for much longer than necessary but he honestly lost track of time. Plus, he knew when he got out, he would be cold and missing the warm water on his skin. Only once his skin started to get pruny did Jake finally exit the shower and quickly wrapped himself in a towel so he wouldn’t be cold and have to look at his battle wounds.

The walk back to his bedroom is very cold and painful against his skin despite it being decently warm inside the dorm and a toasty 64 degrees outside. His feet suffer the worst of it, and when his feet touch the rug in his own room it feels like heaven on Earth. He throws on random clothes that really don’t match at all, but Jake literally doesn’t care. As long as he’s clothed and warm, he could be wearing a pink tutu and a cowboy hat and he still wouldn’t give a rat’s ass.

But the shirt he has on, he decides, is a bit too stinky for his nose to stand, so he swaps it out for another one and tosses it in the hamper. The old shirt reeked of sweat, college parties and old fast food, namely pizza-

_ Dwight! _“Damn! Almost forgot.” Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness, Jake tucked his new shirt down and walked back into the living room, reaching for his ashtray and cracker wrapping paper. He tossed the wrapper away and dumped the ashtray into the sink, washing away the illicit activities before putting the ashtray back into his safebox.

It was when he had returned to the sofa with his finger hovering over Dwight’s name in his contact list that Jake realized that he was about to call Dwight. He was about _ to call Dwight. _ His palms were instantaneously sweaty and his nerves fired up. What would he even say? _ Hey Dwight, sorry for ditching earlier my brother saw some black people and assumed they were stealing his car- _ well, that would be a good way to explain why they left in such a hurry. But he’s not _ that _mean to sell his brother out like that.

Jake’s eyes are fixated on the phone clock as a distraction from calling Dwight. 5:09, now 5:10. His mind comes up with a million reasons as to why he shouldn’t call Dwight now, but… he’s a man of his word. When he said he’d call Dwight, it was a stupid thing to say, but it would damage his pride if he didn’t follow through on the promise.

5:11. Jake tells himself at 5:12, he’ll call Dwight. He’ll call and say the first thing that comes out of his mouth. Probably the excuse he made up earlier. He hears the seconds tick by on a random clock they have around the dorm room somewhere. It counts down in his head how long he has before he presses the call button. He chews on his bottom lip and his leg jogs in place-

5:12.

Jake presses the call button before he can hesitate, before he can talk himself out of it or back down out of nervousness and brings the phone up to his ear. He whispers under his breath a plea, a prayer that Dwight doesn’t pick up the phone so he can at least say that he did call him but he didn’t answer.

_ “Hello?” _

_ Motherfucker on a wooden stick- _“Uh, hey, uh, Dwight. It’s me. Jake.” He adds for clarification. Damn him for picking up the phone!

Something jangles on the other end of the line that makes Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, momentarily making him forget how nervous he was. _ “Hey, Jake! You’re lucky I, um, just got home. Might not have answered earlier.” _

_ Oh wow, lucky me. _He hates that Dwight makes him feel like he’s about to jump out of his skin every time it’s his turn to talk to him, and it’s not in a bad way. “Yeah, I got great timing, huh?”

_ “Speak for yourself!” _ Dwight chuckles over the phone and Jake finds that he likes it too much for his liking. _ “As a pizza deliverer, I’ve walked in on….a lot of weird situations. Some of them still haunt me at night, haha.” _ His awkward little laugh at the end tells Jake two things: Dwight doesn’t talk to people a whole lot and Jake _ really _has it bad for the man.

It dawns on Jake that even though he really doesn’t know Dwight, oddly enough, it feels like he does know him. It’s weird, it’s almost like the radio incident earlier, and now he has something to compare it to. He’s not sure if he’s always felt this way, but he’s been feeling it for a while and he’s just put a label to it: deja vu. 

Or something like that. “Must be...interesting.” Jake can feel his socializing brain cells in his brain shut down from overuse today, but he forces them into overdrive so he doesn’t sound like an asshole over the phone. “Sorry we rushed out earlier. Ed thought some people were going to break into his car.”

Dwight laughed at his statement like it was funny. When Jake thought about it, it actually was funny. _ “Honestly, don’t blame him. This is kinda a rough neighborhood. I’ve-I’ve been thinking about getting a newer car, but not while I live here. So, um, there was no “family business”, then?” _

“Oh, no, there was. He just used it as an excuse to leave.” The last of Jake’s socializing brain cells gave out after his last statement, and the conversation lapsed into uncomfortable silence. 

Until a meow was heard on the other end.

_ “Mister Pringles, you’ve had enough!” _ Jake heard Dwight argue with his cat who meowed again and the pizza worker sighed. _ “Okay, one more! But that's it!” _

It was like someone had opened up his skull and poured a 5-hour energy into his brain. “Pets rule our lives, huh?” Jake asked.

_ “Yes!” _ He heard the sound of something creaking, and Dwight huffed out a sigh of relief. Probably just sat down, then. _ “Mister Pringles, as you might guess, has a Pringles problem, ha! He’s always demanding more even when he eats them all. He doesn’t leave any for me!” _ Dwight audibly pouts on the other end of the phone, and Jake smiles in turn.

“I’m more of a dog person myself.” He explains, and he finds himself talking smoothly to Dwight like he’s an old friend from years ago. “But I vibe with cats a lot more, sometimes.”

_ “Oh really? Why?” _

“We’re both lazy bastards.”

Dwight cackles on the other end and goes on to tell Jake that Mister Pringles would get along just fine with him, then because all Mister Pringles does is eat Pringles and sleep. _But Pringles is getting old_, Dwight tells him, and goes on to tell him the backstory of both of his cats: Mister Pringles is the runt of the litter from some _herding cats_ _(cats can be just as good herders as dogs, Dwight insists)_ his family had back on his farm in Iowa, and his father was going to give him away but Dwight kept feeding the cat the only snack he had at the time until the cat couldn’t be taken away from Dwight, so he got to keep him if he took care of him.

Sooty, on the other hand, is a different story: she was just a kitten when Dwight found her huddled next to a pile of leaves last fall, some of the meaner kids in the neighborhood throwing stuff at her to scare her. Covered in soot and dirt, Dwight told him he couldn’t bear to see her hurt and took her in. He tried to take her to the animal shelter, but they told him they were full for the next few months, so he ended up taking her in fully. By the time the animal shelter had more room, Sooty had become just as important to him as Mister Pringles was.

Dwight tells him that he takes care of his cats more than he takes care of himself sometimes and Jake laughs along with him because honestly, he would probably do the same if he had a pet. He finds out that Dwight isn’t much of a dog person, but he loved the big, fluffy German Shepherd he used to have back at home and would like to get another one one day. Mister Pringles interrupts again with more meowing, and Jake is all too happy to listen to Dwight literally argue with his cat over giving him more pringles. Eventually, Dwight wins out and Mister Pringles stops meowing but Jake hears Dwight grunt when Pringles hops up onto his lap.

Dwight tells him that whenever the store has good sales, he saves all of his pringles coupons and buys them in bulk just for Mister Pringles. _ The people at the store must think I’m a total weirdo for buying all these pringles cans, _Dwight laughs at his own statement.

_ “Sometimes, I think about how much money I could save if I didn’t have cats. I could probably live in a nicer place.” _ Dwight says contemplatively. _ “But, and I don’t mean to sound weird, I kinda need them. I don’t really have any family or friends. All I have is an apartment in the projects, a bike and two cats. The cats are the most valuable thing I have.” _Dwight breaths out a chuckle at the end, and suddenly he gasps.

_ “I’ve spent so much time talking about my cats I haven’t let you speak, Jake! I’m so sorry-” _

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine! I really enjoyed listening to you about your cats.” He loved listening about animals. He loved hearing their little backstories and about their personalities as if they were humans, too. It enthralled him to listen to Dwight talk for the better part of…

Two hours. Jake’s eyebrows raised when he saw the time was just after seven and the sunlight had considerably dimmed. Time really got away from them, didn’t it?

Dwight’s chuckle drew him out of his thoughts. _ “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed listening to me go on and on forever like a moron!” _

“You’re not a moron.” Jake reassures, and if he could see Dwight on the other end, he would’ve seen his light-colored cheeks turn red.

_ “Easy for you to say. You haven’t seen me working at PizzaWhat! But hey, if you enjoyed me talking about my cat so much- and I know they enjoyed you, too- I-I usually take them to the park on my days off. There’s plenty of other cats and dogs, there, too. You can come with me, if you like!” _

Jake blinked like a deer caught in headlights. _ Did Dwight just- _

_ “Not- Not like a date, hah!” _ Dwight just prevented Jake from having a mental breakdown. _ “But, well… I figured that since everything going on, you’re probably stressed out and stuff and maybe this would help? Relieve some stress, that is! Yo-you don’t have to take me up-” _

“It’s-it’s fine, ummm…” Jake found himself at a complete loss for words. Should he accept? If he didn’t accept, he would really seem like an asshole. “I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, or feel like I’m imposing on you if I go-”

_ “Oh, no, trust me! I’m offering! My cats don’t get to interact with other humans much, and you’re really the first person I’ve seen them like other than me, so- I’m- I’m rambling again. Sorry.” _

“No, no it’s fine. I would lo- like, like to go with you to the, um, cat park.” _ What the fuck is wrong with me? Did I just have a stroke? Am I having a fucking aneurysm? _

_ “It’s a date, then- NO, NO IT’s NOT A DATE, HA. Um, I’ll give you a call later, then? My work days can be kinda hectic, but I think I’ll have this- this upcoming weekend free? If you want to go then.” _

“Sure.” Wait, didn’t Jake have something coming up this we- “Oh, wait! I might have something else coming up this weekend, actually.”

_ “Oh.” _ Dwight sounded disappointed and Jake didn’t like it one bit. He had the insane instinct to immediately make Dwight not disappointed. _ “Well-” _

_ You know what? Fuck it. No balls. _

“I mean, it won’t be _ all _weekend. It’s- it’s a stupid college thing. But if I have any free time I’ll give you a heads up, alright?”

_ “Sounds good!” _ Dwight instantly sounded better on the other line and Jake felt a surge of pride lift his heart into his throat. _ “I’ve had fun, um, talking with you Jake. I really have.” _

“Yeah.” Jake deadpanned. “Me too.” His people skills were through the roof today.

_ “Bye. Have a good evening!” _ The other line _ clicked! _as it disconnected, and Jake slid into the floor. Right onto the symbols. Jake immediately got up off the floor and brushed his clothes off reflexively.

He may have had fun talking to Dwight, but it left him _ exhausted. _He had just taken a nap a few hours ago, and Jake felt as if he could go to bed right now and sleep for the whole night. In fact, it seemed like the perfect thing to do. Turning off his phone for the moment, Jake got up and stretched again, bones creaking from laying on the sofa while talking to Dwight for a couple of hours-

_ Knock knock knock! _

“What-?” Jake asked, confused at the knocking by the door. It can’t be Cameron- he had a key and if he didn’t have it, he would be busting down the door. Overly cautious, Jake takes a few steps towards the door and calls out. “Who is it?”

“Hello, it’s Mrs. Yankelewitz. The school counselor. I came to talk with a Mister Park about Mister Ziegler.” Shoulders sagging from unexpected tension, Jake sighs and walks over to the door and unlocks it, poking his head around the doorframe at the school counselor. He didn’t know her by name before, but he had seen her around the school plenty of times.

“Are you decent?” She was an older woman, some wrinkles around her mouth and on her neck, with some gray streaks beginning in her pinned up dark brown hair. Her hands had a few age spots on them from what he could see holding some books and papers to her chest. Speaking of which, she had _ massive _ boobs. Not that he was into older women like her, but they were hard _ not _ to stare at. She certainly wore her tight shirt low-cut, too, revealing just a hint of her push-up bra.

If Jake didn’t know any better, he would say this was the beginning of a porn video. He wonders if she would come in even if he said he wasn’t decent.

“Yes.” He says anyways, and moves aside as he opens the door for the woman who’s long name he’s already forgotten. “Nice to meet you, Mrs…?”

“Yankelewitz. I know, it’s a mouthful.” She laughed, and it actually didn’t sound that fake. What a nice change. “Are you Mr. Jake Park?” She asks, looking down at her clipboard before looking back at him. Jake hopes she didn’t catch him staring at her tits. _ What horrible back pain she must have. _

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me. Did you say you had something about Simon?”

“Mr. Ziegler, yes I do.” She looks around and places the books and papers she has on the kitchen counter with a bouncy motion. Too much of a bouncy motion. “I’m sorry to hear that he was hospitalized with meningitis! I know my own son Michael got it when he went to college freshman year- nearly killed him. Took him a couple of weeks for him to fully recover.” She goes on, spreading out the books and papers in a predetermined fashion.

“Mr. Ziegler’s doctor has already given him the rest of the week off, and in fact, the doctor specifically requested that _ you _be given a week off too to help him recover, since he also can’t take his medication anymore and that can wreak havoc on a person’s system as well.”

Jake had completely forgotten that Simon can’t take his Zoloft anymore. _ Fuck_, that’s another thing he’s gonna have to watch out for, isn’t it?

“I brought some forms you both need to fill out for your extended absences that need to be turned in as soon as possible- you can help your friend fill it out if he needs help. And also some forms detailing what the withdrawal symptoms are from not being able to take his medicine anymore and what they may look like, also are some papers detailing about his condition and how to manage it.”

She pointed to the stack of papers on top of the books. “These are classwork and homework assignments that are going to be given out this week. You’ll have an extra week extension on all of them and if you need any help with them, feel free to ask a teacher or a friend.”

That’s… a lot of stuff to take in. Jake doesn’t know what to do other than smile and nod politely. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll… go through all of this stuff tomorrow.”

The woman nods with a smile and steps forward. “Mr. Ziegler is very lucky to have a friend like you.” The counselor is just about his height, but her boobs take up most of his field of view. It’s an honest to God struggle not to blatantly stare at them. 

Then she put her hand on his arm. “Is there anything else you need. Mr. Park?” She asks, and Jake blinks. Just straight up blinks at her and thinks _ this is really just like a porn video. _

“No.” He says slowly, and moves towards the door, holding it open for her. “Have a good evening, ma’am.” She has the audacity to look mildly disappointed, but smiles at him nonetheless and picks up her clipboard off the counter and leaves. Jake makes sure the door is locked tightly behind her and scoops up all the papers and books, dumps them on his desk in his room and buries himself under the covers and watches really fucking stupid videos until he falls asleep.

People acting like the school counselor did is the reason why he doesn’t like 90% of the world’s population- everybody’s horny these days and they clearly can’t control themselves. It’s this train of thought that persists until he goes to sleep and invades his dreams as he sleeps, nameless and countless people everywhere reaching out to grab him but he always manages to slip away. At least it’s not like the nightmares he’s been having lately; it’s actually quite a pleasant dream in comparison.

  
  
  
  



	16. College Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon comes home.
> 
> Also trying new formatting :0 and also editing and correct earlier chapters (thanks again ham ur the shit)
> 
> imma be taking a small break from LeV. I want to write out a few more dbd ideas that i have- but i'll be back quicker than most of us can make a new friend :dab:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u lyeham again for editing that was a splashin' nut

“ _ Jake?”  _ Edward says his name like he’s a little kid in trouble. “Do we have to actually  _ go into  _ the hospital?”

The younger of the two peels his eyes away from the car window and shakes his head. “One of us has to- I will!” Jake interrupts before Edward can start going on and on about how  _ dangerous and germ-ridden hospitals are. You’re more likely to get a disease there than going to any third-world country  _ until Jake’s ears bled. But, in all honesty, hospitals were a very dangerous and infectious place. Not to mention how much doctors made off a single bottle of Tylenol; Jake would rather not get extorted.

“Fine.” Edward flips on the blinker and turns into the massive parking lot of the New Haven Hospital. “Why must you go inside? I thought Simon was going to come out to us?”

“Since Simon’s parents never showed up, whoever picks him up has to sign saying that they picked him up and all that.” The nurse had called him this morning and informed him of that duty, much to Jake's chagrin. He’d much rather  _ not  _ go inside the hospital if he could help it, but... if it was for Simon’s sake, then he could grin and bear it for a minute or two.

“So, you’ll go in and sign for him, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Just don’t get too wrapped up in there.” Edward warned, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Be careful while you're in there- you walk in to sign one form and you walk out with stage four pancreatic cancer.”

“I don’t  _ linger  _ around and  _ gossip  _ like you do, Edward. I’ll be in and out, quick.” The car comes to a screeching stop when another car pulls out in front of them from a parking space, not even bothering to look around for other vehicles. Edward has to slam on the brakes to avoid t-boning them, and Jake’s ears are blessed with the sounds of his brother’s early morning, coffee-lacking swearing.

Jake thanks whatever God is up there that no one else tries to run into them because he can see a pronounced vein throbbing on his brother’s forehead as he stops in front of the hospital doors in the loading/unloading zone. “Alright.” Edward puts the car in park but doesn’t hit the engine button, and unlocks the doors. Jake already is dreading going inside around sick people. “Go get him.”

_ “”Go get him-”  _ He’s not a dog.” Jake protested, but got out of the car anyways and slammed the door behind him, standing still for a moment longer than necessary before he pushed his ass into gear and started walking. Tugging his green jacket around his stomach, the younger brother made quick strides across the outside lobby and into the interior one, nearly running face-first into the front doors because he  _ assumed  _ that they would open for him, not be manual push-open doors.  _ Well, excuse my privilege.  _

The first thing that assaults his senses is that it's bright. The sunlight is reflecting off the bright white tiles, nearly burning his retinas down to his brain. The second is the amount of sick people in the lobby room, which Jake instantly begins to move away from as much as he can without missing the reception desk. There’s quite a number of people coughing that Jake finds a bit odd because the coughing sounds really gross, like they have pneumonia or something.  _ It’s nearing the end of March _ , Jake thinks,  _ I don’t think there’s a lot of people getting pneumonia this time of year. _

But he’s not there to contemplate at what time of year most people get pneumonia or why they have it now: he’s there to get Simon home. Striding up to the receptionist, Jake  _ almost  _ put his hands on the desk but thought twice when he remembered how many sick people were in here and kept them respectfully and safely at his sides.

Clearing his throat, Jake gave the woman a polite smile. “Uh, hi. I’m here to pick up Simon Ziegler.” The receptionist looked down at her desk for a moment before handing him a clipboard and pen. “He’s being wheeled out right now.” She started, popping the gum in her mouth loud enough to be heard over the symphony of coughing. “Just sign on the X’es, saying that you are the one taking him out of here and responsible for getting him where he needs to go, and you can take Mr. Ziegler and  _ leave.”  _ Jake gave her a look at the way she said  _ leave _ , but then he realized that she was one of the nurses there the night Simon was admitted.

He would want Simon out of the hospital as quick as he could, too, if he had gone through  _ that.  _ Nodding in agreement, Jake moved down to the end of the receptionist desk farthest away from the people in the lobby and quickly read over the paperwork before signing his name on all the appropriate places.

You  _ never  _ sign anything before you read it over fully.

He had just clicked the pen shut when he heard the sound of wheels catching on metal before it hit the tile with a loud  _ squeak!  _ along with the sound of an elevator closing shut. Jake returns the clipboard and pen back to the receptionist who stashes it underneath the desk and gets up from her seat. She turns to her right to walk down the hallway when she runs into Simon in a wheelchair, nearly getting her feet run over.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, holding her heart over her chest. Jake thinks that she may have actually almost had a heart attack with how wide her eyes got. “I didn’t expect him to be so ready soon. His boyfriend is here to pick him up.” By the time she had finished speaking, Jake had followed her around the desk and already made eye contact with Simon, still in his hospital gown but with a fluffy and warm-looking white robe on and tied around his waist. Fuck, he didn’t even  _ think  _ about bringing Simon more clothes because his old ones were ruined!  _ Marvelous way to look like an asshole, Jake. _

“Yes, ma’-” Then he realized that she had called him Simon’s  _ boyfriend  _ and his cheeks went aflame. “I’m just his  _ friend.  _ We’re not, uh, dating, or anything.”

“Jake, at this point they could call you my sugar daddy and I would still leave with you.” Simon jokes, much to Jake’s extreme embarrassment. Simon turns to look back up at the nurse who had control of his wheelchair. “Can I get up? I can walk-”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, sir. Hospital policy. You have to be wheeled out.” A look of disappointment crosses Simon’s face, but he doesn’t argue with the nurse and instead turns to Jake. “I’m glad you’re here.” Simon’s voice is still a touch hoarse, Jake notes, but the smile on his face has the first touch of warmth and life to it that he’s seen in a long time. There’s something  _ else  _ about Simon’s voice that has him metaphorically scratching his head, but he can’t think of a word in his vocabulary to describe it. 

But for now, he can forget about everything that’s happened and believe that he has his old friend back. “I’m glad you’re ready to go.”

“Which car is yours?” The nurse behind Simon asks, and Simon turns to Jake. “What car does Edward have again? It’s a bright, sharp blue-”

“It’s the Rolls-Royce out front.” Jake points through the glass doors to the far left, and they all crane their necks to see the bright blue car waiting at the edge of the overhang outside. He could  _ feel  _ his brother’s impatience from inside the hospital. Nevertheless, Jake went first and held the doors open for the nurse and Simon while the receptionist went back to her desk to manage the lobby. She looked to be relieved, but Jake isn’t going to go back and ask her _ hey, are you much happier now that my possessed friend is out of your hospital? _

“Ooohhhh, that is a pretty car color.” The nurse commented, her shoes clicking against the outside brick. Even though Jake doesn’t really care for foreign cars, he has always found the color to be really pretty. He makes a noise in agreement, and watches with a raised eyebrow as Edward gets out of the car and goes around to the backside of the car, holding the door open as they get closer.

“Alright, Mr. Ziegler. Ready to get up?” Simon eagerly nodded and braced his arms on the chair’s armrest, and Jake put an arm underneath Simon’s shoulders in case the man had trouble standing. 

“I’m fine, I just…” Simon started, but Jake noticed that his arms wobbled when he went to get up and ignored Simon’s protest and fully put his arm around his back. 

“He hasn’t eaten a whole lot.” The nurse said, moving the wheelchair out of the way when Simon was fully out of it and helped Jake guide him into the back of the car. 

“Yeah.” Simon agreed. Jake didn’t doubt it, judging by how easy it was to feel his spine through his clothes when he touched him. Simon landed in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce with a grunt of effort, panting a little bit but still had a small smile on his face. “I-I hope you can cook well, Jake. You’re going to be making me breakfast.”

He unintentionally smiles back. “I hope you can stomach some goldfish.”

“Mmmmm, my favorite.” Simon puts his seatbelt on as Edward shuts the door and walks around to get back in the driver seat. Jake turns around to offer to help the nurse push the wheelchair back inside like the chivalrous gentleman that he was raised to be, but she had this  _ smile  _ on her heavily makeupped face that made him stop in his tracks.

“He’s still not your boyfriend?” Jake  _ paled _ and sputtered, the last thirty seconds replaying back in his mind and Jake concluded that he and Simon, had, in fact, acted very gay towards each other. 

It was  _ mortifying _ , to say the least. “No, he- he’s not.” Jake looked away and reached for his door handle. “Thank you for helping us.” He mutters and barely pays attention to her  _ “You’re welcome”  _ as he jumps in the car and slams the door shut, making sure it’s locked before he even puts his seatbelt on. 

Jake decided that he could  _ never  _ show his face to this hospital again.

Luckily, Edward started the car without asking any questions or any snide comments, and soon enough they had made it back out onto the main road and were driving back to Yale in early morning traffic. The only sound that came from within the car was the classical rock quietly playing out of the radio, Van Halen it sounded like-

“The uh, the stains came out nicely.”

Jake would’ve snickered at the sight of his brother jumping so high his head scraped the ceiling, but he would be lying if he said the sound of Simon’s voice didn’t make him jump, too.

“Uh-” Edward said dumbly, eyes blinking as his brain came back online. “Yes. Yes, they did. It, uh, took quite a bit of work. Took it to a specialist over the weekend.”

“Sorry.” Simon said, and Jake could hear the pain in his friend’s voice. A random car honked behind them.

Edward waved a hand. “It’s fine.” But Jake saw his hands were clutching the steering wheel a bit harder than normal. “Just don’t do it again.”

And to Jake’s relief, he heard the sound of Simon weakly chuckling in the back. “If I can help it, I won’t. Trust me, it wasn’t fun.”

There was a small smile on Jake’s face that lingered until the campus came into view, and suddenly he remembered that he had  _ so much  _ paperwork to fill out and look over. Not to mention-

“Hey Edward, didn’t you have to go to class now?” Jake asked, taking his chin off his hand to give his brother a questioning look.

Edward cleared his throat, slightly relieved that his brother had broken the silence. “I got a pass to drive Simon home. Not that I’m complaining- I haven’t had any coffee yet.”

“You- you can stop and get coffee somewhere.” Simon piped up from the backseat. “I’m not in any rush-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve been drinking too much-  _ Jacob _ .” Edward stopped talking when he saw a shit-eating grin spread across his brother’s face. “No.”

Jake put a finger up, the smirk getting wider. “But-”

“It’s 9:15 in the morning,  _ do not start with me.”  _

Rolling his eyes, Jake crossed his arms over his chest and admitted defeat with a heavy sigh. “Fine. But I still think-”

“Don’t think, Jake. It’s too early to be thinking.” Much to Edward’s relief, there were very few cars parked on campus at this time of day, making parking spaces close to the dorms available for him to park in. He took up four just to be on the safe side. 

He didn’t need to see Jake’s face to know that he was about to be smart alecky with him. “Ed, you didn’t park very-”

“I did it for a  _ reason _ , Jake.” Edward’s tone left no room for questioning. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jake unlocked the doors and hopped out, keeping the door open for Simon to get out. He quickly came around and put his arm back underneath Simon’s shoulders, and this time Simon didn’t protest as he used the support behind his back to help him get to his feet.

“I think I got it.” Simon whispered, taking a tentative step forward without falling face first into the pavement. He took the next step, and then another until he got to the sidewalk and stopped. “I’m just… weak.” Simon breathed out heavily. “I feel like a skeleton.”

“You look like one.” Edward couldn’t help but comment, and ignored Jake’s look of disapproval at his words. But despite his lack of faith in the man to actually make it to the dorm room without going into cardiac arrest, he stepped up on the sidewalk and held his right arm out to Simon and motioned for him to grab onto it.

What he didn’t expect was for Simon to use whatever body weight he had left to pull his arm and nearly make  _ him  _ fall face first onto the concrete. The tallest of the trio heard the other two chuckling at him as he stumbled. “You’re one heavy skeleton.” Edward muttered in self-defense, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Whatever you say, pixy stix.” Jake squinted back at him, and Edward forced back the childish impulse to stick his tongue out at him.

The elder brother is actually surprised that Simon managed to make it inside the dorm lobby before having to stop again to catch his breath, Jake forcing him to sit down in a chair. There’s a sheen of sweat on Simon’s forehead that he wipes away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“I realized…” Simon broke his panting with a single cough. “...when I was putting on my shoes back at the hospital how… how much w-weight I had lost. I don’t even look like I used to.” 

“When was the last time you ate, like, a full meal, Simon?” Jake asked, looking over his friend, particularly his face, and  _ really  _ noticing how gaunt his cheeks looked. His skin was almost hanging off his body.

Jake watched as Simon pursed his lips before shaking his head. “Weeks. A-a good week, at the very least.” Jake watched as Simon stared at his feet for a minute before suddenly getting to his feet. Jake shot out his arm to wrap around Simon for support, but the other man seemed to not need it as much as before, walking faster and steadier. But Simon did keep a tight grip on his arm as they walked to the elevator and after they had disembarked it.

_ This looks really fucking gay,  _ Jake can’t help but think as the few people who where in the hallways look at them, point and gossip amongst themselves as Simon holds his arm. But this time he knows better than to open his fucking mouth and to banter with Simon like they were an old married couple. Jake also notes that some people come up to offer to help him and Edward, but none of them say that they want to help Simon.

After shooing them away, Jake pulls the dorm room key out of his jacket pocket and quickly opens the door for an out of breath Simon, getting out of the way so Simon can make a beeline for the armchair and plop down into it with a sigh of relief.

“Alright.” Edward says, taking off his long overcoat and giving it to Jake, revealing his Yale uniform underneath. “You sure you’ll be alright?” He asks, looking into Jake’s eyes and making sure he got his subtle message across. It must’ve, because Jake narrowed his eyes and him and pursed his lips. “Yes, I’ll be  _ fine.  _ Go to class, dipshit.”

Rolling his eyes into the ceiling, Edward took a step back and clutched the doorknob tightly in his hand. “Don’t kill him while I’m gone.” Jake’s not quite sure who’s talking to who there. “Also don’t get my jacket dirty. I’ll come get it after class.” Edward spares a final look to Simon in the chair. “I...hope you feel better soon, Simon.”

Simon didn’t turn around. “I hope you get some coffee, Edward. Your bedside manner is horrible.” Jake laughs out loud as Edward leaves in a huff, the door closing with more force than necessary and the random paintings on the wall vibrating with the actions.

It took a moment for Jake to realize that he was now  _ alone  _ with Simon in the dorm room. Jake had his back to Simon, turned away to fully lock the door, so Simon could strike him down at any time. He didn’t turn around, even when every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do so. No, he needed to see if that  _ thing  _ inside Simon was still there, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce on him…

“Jake?” Simon calls from his seat, and Jake lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah?” He answers back, turning around.

“You okay?” Simon’s head peeks around the corner of the chair, and Jake is beyond relieved to find that his friend’s eyes were normal colored. Shaking his head, Jake lets his shoulder droop and hangs his brother’s coat on the coat rack along with his own.

“Yeah, I’m good. Hey, are you hungry?” He asks, changing topics really quick so Simon doesn’t press him. It does the trick, and Simon’s stomach rumbles almost on cue.

“I believe you-you promised me goldfish earlier.” Simon hummed, looking around the dorm with wide and curious eyes.

“I did, didn’t I?” Jake says mostly to himself, but he does go into the cabinets and pull down a bowl and the package of goldfish, pours the goldfish into the bowl and serves it to Simon with the flair of a waiter at a rich restaurant. He's pleased to see Simon crack a small smile.

“I was thinking more of toast, but this’ll do just fine.”

Jake pulled a face. “Ew, goldfish on toast?”

Simon pulled a face back. “I didn’t mean that- but now that you’ve said it…” Simon pauses and tilts his head to one side. Jake fake retches and walks back into his room, fetching the paperwork that was given to him yesterday by the woman whose name he can’t remember but he can remember how big her boobs were.  _ So what, he’s a horny teenager, sue him. _

Jake went to put the paperwork on the coffee table, only to yet again realize that there was no such piece of furniture there anymore and decided to put the papers on the counter. He heard Simon make a noise over the sound of crunching goldfish.

“What’s all that?”

“Paperwork from the, uh, school counselor.” He really can’t remember her name because all he sees is big tits. “Stopped by here yesterday.”

Simon swallowed. “Mrs. Yankelewitz?”

Jake snapped his fingers. “That was it! You know her?”

“She handles s-some stuff of mine.” Simon put a handful of goldfish into his mouth and chewed on them thoughtfully before speaking again. “Everyone calls her Mrs. Yankeletits though.”

Jake had reached into the fridge to pour himself a glass of orange juice and just taken the first sip when Simon said that. He chortled so hard some orange juice dribbled from between his lips and onto the counter, putting his hand underneath his mouth to try and catch the spill.

“ _ Oh my God _ .” Jake said as he was swallowing the juice in his mouth. “That’s horrible, but great.”

“I know!” Simon agreed, picking up another handful of snacks. “It fits her so well.”

“Yeah.” Jake took another small sip of the orange juice. “Unlike her shirt.”

It was Simon’s turn to choke this time, coughing through crushed up goldfish in his mouth. “Please, Jake. I choke easily.”

Smiling into the rest of his orange juice, Jake downs it all in one go, feeling substantially healthier than he did a few minutes before. “Okay, I won’t. I’m done, I promise.” The glass clinks against the other dishes in the sink as Jake disposes of it, reminding him that he really needs to do some today, sooner rather than later. In fact, the longer that Jake looks at it, the more he has the urge to put them in the dishwasher and he ends up doing just that.

“Oh, here-” Simon brings the lip of the bowl to his mouth and knocks the remaining crumbs out. “You can put this in there-” Jake had turned around in just enough time to see Simon get to his feet, and Jake quickly came around the counter to get it from him with a  _ “Don’t overexert yourself.” _

The blond haired man shook his head, but sat back down in his chair per Jake’s request, twiddling his thumbs while the clinking of glass and dishware started to throb painfully in his head. “My bed’s good to lay on, right?” Simon asked, twisting around in his chair to look at his roommate. Jake suddenly stopped with a spoon in his hand to look at his friend.

“Uh, should be.” He only went into Simon’s room to sweep really quickly since the night he got possessed.

“Good. I’m going to go lay down.” He quickly turned down the help that Jake offered to him, slowly shuffling his way to the bedroom. 

“You gonna change?” Jake asked, pointing to Simon’s hospital gown and robe. It made the man stop and look down at himself, biting his lower lip in thought.  “Yeah, probably. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” 

Jake put the spoon he was holding in the dishwasher, and grabbed up the remaining forks and tossed them in there too before shutting the appliance closed. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” He heard Simon mutter softly before shuffling down the rest of the hallway and into his room, the door clicking open and shut seamlessly. Fumbling with the settings, Jake kept an ear out in case Simon called him for anything, but when the other man didn’t make a peep except for the sound of the bed creaking, Jake concluded that Simon was safe in bed and flopped down onto the sofa after snagging some random chunks of paperwork from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, the first chunk is all the forms he and Simon have to fill out for their extended absences and Jake’s eyes are already blurring from such tiny and official print. There’s two identical blank packets, so Jake picks one and starts filling it out as the seconds tick by on the black and grey wall clock. Most of the questions are easy, but some of them makes him think and he has to get out his Social Security card to fill that section out because he’s  _ always  _ forgetting his Social Security number. When he gets to the part about Simon’s condition, he can't help but chuckle to himself.

_“What event, did any, perceive this illness or injury?” _Would Yale accept the response of _I think_ _he got possessed by some bloodthirsty demon who’s out to get me and a pizza guy? _Probably not, so Jake simply responds with N/A and moves on to the next set of questions. _Is this illness/injury chronic or permanent? _It depends, he guesses, on how fast a priest can exorcise him. _Did this illness/injury occur at or on the Yale campus? _Jake leaves that question blank but can’t help but think that they sure are covering all of their bases so they can hire a team of lawyers real quick if they need to. It’s the smart thing legally to do, but morally? Highly questionable.

Jake has to close his eyes when he gets to the fine print underneath the final question of the packet, the incredibly fine print burning his retinas into his brain. The sugar from the orange juice must be wearing off, Jake thinks, because he looks at the fine print to read it again and it’s blurry. Not unreadable blurry, but sleepy blurry. Like he needs to take a nap blurry.

Tossing the papers at the end of the sofa, Jake kicks off his shoes and lifts his feet onto the couch, tugging a pillow underneath his head and closing his eyes. The familiar urge to take a cat nap overwhelmed him, and after blearily blinking at the wall clock for a few minutes until the big hand was well past 10 Jake’s eyes shut for good.

_ The dream was pleasant, Jake could feel. He’s not sure where he was, but he’s out in the woods with Dwight somewhere walking down a well-beaten path and gently holding his hand. There’s a dog- he knows it’s their dog- yapping happily and running around both of them.  _

_ He’s happy. So happy, especially when he looks over at Dwight who’s pointing at a tree and telling him something about it that he taught him a while ago. It’s about edible berries, and Dwight suddenly lets go of his hand to bend down and pick some, wiping them off on the bottom of his shirt and popping one into his mouth. He chews for a moment before turning around and wiping another one on his shirt, offering it to him. Jake eats it, sucking on Dwight’s fingers unnecessarily and warmth pooled in his belly when Dwight gasped- _

_Screaming_ _ . Suddenly there screaming but it’s not coming from the woods- _

Screaming. That’s what wakes Jake up so bad that he rolls off the sofa and onto the floor. Loud, terrified screaming coming from inside the dormroom. His brain is befuddled from sleep when he gets to his feet, looking around dumbly for the source when it hits him.

It’s Simon screaming.

Rushing to his friend’s bedroom in mere seconds, Jake had already fully prepared himself to fight whatever monster had taken a hold of Simon again but was mildly relieved to fling his door open and see no such monster. The only thing going on was Simon thrashing underneath the covers on his bed.

“Simon!” Jake yelled out, grabbing the arms of his friend  _ (or where he thought they were) _ and tried to hold him still so he could see what was  _ wrong  _ with him. A quick glance at him revealed that he had no wounds or blood on him, or no suspicious liquids leaking out of any orifices.

_ He must be having a nightmare  _ was Jake’s only conclusion, and the second time he called his name was accompanied by giving his roommate a hard shake. “Simon, wake up!”

The shaking seems to do the trick, and Simon’s eyes fly open and he grips Jake back in shock, crawling away from him. “No, no, hey-” Jake relaxes his grip to something more comfortable and lowers his voice considerably. “-Simon, it’s me, it’s Jake.”

“Jake?” Simon doesn’t blink for the longest time, simply staring at him like he was trying to figure out who or where he was until Simon’s whole body sagged and his eyes closed. “Oh God.” Simon breathed out before picking his head up. ”God, I’m sorry. I… I-I was having a  _ horrible  _ nightmare.”

“Yeah, I, uh-” Jake chuckled despite himself. “-kinda figured that. You okay?”

“I…” Simon started, and Jake noticed that his face looked even paler than what it did when he first went to lay down. “Can you-” Simon pointed next to his desk. “-hand me the wastebin? I think I might be sick.”

For a moment, Jake didn’t understand what Simon meant by that, until his face began to have a greenish hue to it. “Oh.” He said dumbly, staring at Simon for a moment before springing into action and snatching up the wastebin and shoving it into Simon’s lap in one fluid motion. 

Jake sat on the edge of Simon’s bed with his back turned just enough away so that he didn’t have to see Simon bent over and retching into the wastebin. It was gross enough to hear it, and Jake really didn’t want to see the goldfish swimming back up the pipes. Thankfully, the actual sound of vomit didn’t assault his ears, and he was relieved to hear Simon putting the waste bin back down on the ground and slither back under the covers.   


“I’m good now.” He heard him mutter as he twisted around on his bed to look at his friend. “I’m sure glad those goldfish didn’t come back up.”

“I don’t think they wanted to come back up, either.” Jake said good-naturedly, and got up off Simon’s bed. He thought about putting the trash bin back next to his desk, but he would rather have it at Simon’s side in case the man threw up again. “Are you good now?”

“Yes. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Jake shook his head. “It’s alright. Your nightmare, uh…” Jake started, not quite sure if he was ready to bring this up at the moment. “....was it about… y’know-”   


“No, no, it wasn’t.” Quickly putting his worries to rest, Simon poked his head out from underneath the covers to look at his friend. “It was about bees.”

“Bees?”

Simon nodded. “I was being stung by bees over and over again. I have a-a really bad fear of bees.”

That… sounded like a horrible nightmare, honestly. Jake had been stung by a hornet once when he was a young boy and he remembered crying for hours until the swelling had gone down some and it had quit burning so bad. Now that Simon had said it, Jake really hoped he wouldn’t have nightmares about that now.

_ I can forget about taking any more naps today.  _ “Let me know if you need anything.” Jake offered, and walked back out of Simon’s room, closing the door until the doorjam touched the doorframe and Jake left it like that in case he needed to get to Simon again real quick.

Walking down the hall, Jake makes a quick stop to the restroom to splash some cold water over his face and to take a piss induced by the orange juice and all the excitement just a few minutes before. God, Simon had scared the absolute  _ piss  _ out of him- literally. Was the nightmare just from the trauma of being possessed or what is more of a withdrawal symptom? Jake remembers hearing something about night terrors being a side effect of random medications on TV commercials, so maybe Simon was having something like that?

Well, it really couldn’t be a night terror because it was  _ daytime _ , but still-

Washing his hands, Jake’s stomach rumbled with complaint. Thinking back, Jake notes that the only thing he’s really eaten today is some apple slices he had cut today and shoved the rest into a small plastic baggie and back into the fridge. Jake seriously considered just eating the rest of them for lunch, but his stomach grumbled louder and apple slices weren’t just going to cut.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake immediately went to the fridge to scrounge around for some food to placate his empty stomach. There wasn’t a whole lot except for some milk- he knows they have cereal in the pantry, so that was going to be his lunch.  _ Actually _ \- Jake turned around and raised an eyebrow when the wall clock read 11:27.  _ I didn’t sleep for that long, did I?  _ but seemingly, he did. Shaking his head at his oversleeping, Jake got the cereal down from the pantry along with another bowl and poured the milk in it first before pouring the cereal in because  _ what kind of barbarian pours the cereal in first?  _

Grabbing a spoon out of the drawer, Jake wiped it off on his pants before putting it in the full bowl and carried it with both hands over to the island, sliding the bowl across the surface and walking around the island to sit on one of the barstools. Hopping up on it  _ (who keeps raising it? Jake would bet a good thousand dollars it was Cameron to bully him for his height) _ , Jake picked up the spoon and fished around for a good serving size of Cheerios before lifting the spoon to his mouth-

“Hey, sorry, I-I couldn’t sleep-” Milk went  _ all over  _ the counter, and only because of Jake’s fast reflexes to put his hand underneath his mouth prevented any milk or Cheerios from getting on his. Jake had flipped his spoon in a panic, not expecting nor hearing Simon walk into the living room, sending milk and Cheerios flying across the counter and probably sent some into the floor too.

And Simon had the  _ gall  _ to chuckle at him. “-did I scare you?”

_ Thank God I just pissed.  _ “N-no. Not really.” If Simon had even half his wits about him, he would see right through that lie. “Are you, uh, okay?”

Simon, wrapped up in a blanket that Jake hadn’t seen since early February, padded over to the couch where he had been sitting and gingerly sat down. “I-I can’t get back to sleep. I feel like I’m too wound up to rest. It’s making me feel weird- from my withdrawal.” Fiddling with his blanket for a moment, Simon soon turned his attention to the papers laying on the sofa while Jake got a paper towel and cleaned up his mess.

“Wh-where did all of this come from?”

“The Yankletits lady.”

“Oh, oh yeah.” Simon picked up one of the forms that Jake had been looking over and flipped through it before putting it back and looking through some of the other papers. “Jake, have you read any-any paperwork about my withdrawal symptoms yet?”

Fuck, he hasn’t. “Haven’t gotten to it yet.” Jake says from his position crouched on the ground, mopping up a few drops of spilled milk that he  _ did not  _ cry over. “Keep getting distracted.” He apologized, standing up and throwing the paper towel away before washing his hands back off in the sink. 

Jake watched Simon flip through a couple of more pages from the small pile of paperwork before selecting a few and shuffling them together, standing up with them and ambling to sit next to him.“Oh, well, I can read them to you while you eat.”

This time, the milk and Cheerios successfully entered his mouth and went down his throat. “Go ahead.”

“Right. Uhhh, well, nightmares are a symptom.  _ That _ , paired with fatigue and insomnia-”

“Sounds like fun.” Jake commented in between spoonfuls of cereal, eternally thankful that he was never put on any medication.

“Much fun.” Simon grumbled, then unexpectedly hopped off the barstool and headed for the pantry. “What- where did you put the goldfish at?”

Clearing his throat, Jake pointed just past Simon. “Same place they were.”

“Thanks.” Simon pulled out the whole package and came back to his seat, wrapping his blanket tighter around him and eating straight out of the goldfish sack. “I can also have chills- which as- as you can see, I’m pretty cold right now. Flu-like symptoms, dizziness, headaches, irrit-irritability, trouble focusing, pinprick and needles sensations, lightheadedness, nausea and vomiting. Basically… a lot.” Simon put down the piece of paper, and Jake could see where the  _ nausea and vomiting  _ was about halfway down the list of side effects.  _ Jesus Christ,  _ Simon was really gonna be fucked for a while.

“How long does-” Jake waves his arms at his friend. “-all this last for?”

“If I’m lucky-” Simon ate a few goldfish in between statements. “For a few days, ma-maybe a week. If not, then maybe up to a month. I mean, this may seem like a lot, but…” Simon took another handful of goldfish and shoved it into his mouth, only this time he made a face at it. “... _ ew.  _ You only need to worry, like, if I have another seizure or go completely bonkers, or if I try to commit sucidie. I-I don’t mean to freak you out, but that’s probably what you’re going to have to look out for the most. They told me that if I tried to, then just for you to call the hospital immediately.”

Jake didn’t like the way his throat tightened up while Simon was talking about possibly trying to commit sucidie again, but he got rid of it by shoveling another spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth. They didn't really make him feel  _ cheery,  _ though. False advertising, he should sue them. “Okay.” He’s glad when Simon doesn’t speak for a minute so he can calm his heart rate back down to a less worried pace. 

A sigh from his left broke his desperate attempts at eating Cheerios as a distraction from his feelings. “Also, Jake… you-you may not want to talk about this now, but...” Simon stopped, wrapping the goldfish back up and clipping them tightly before speaking again. “I need to tell you about what I remember from being possessed.”

No, Jake did  _ not want  _ to even  _ think  _ about it, but he knew that bus was gonna have to run him over eventually. His tight grip around his spoon became tighter until the metal handle was biting into his skin, and Jake dropped it into the bowl with more force than necessary. “Sorry.” He apologized again, pushing back painful memories of being choked into the recesses of his mind where they could never hurt him.

Noticing Jake’s clear agitation, Simon started backtracking. “If it’s too painful for you, I- we can-”

Shaking his head, Jake’s glad his hair’s long enough that his bangs cover his eyes now so he doesn’t have to look at Simon directly if he doesn’t want to. “No, no, you need to talk about it- didn’t you say your memories were getting wonky?”

Simon nodded. “They are. It’s...odd. The-the times-memories that were the clearest- that  _ thing  _ giving me orders- are fading away. But the faint memories, like going to school and stuff like that, are coming back. I want to t-tell you about the important ones before I forget. Because I have a feeling that I’m not going to be able to remember them soon.”

Why does he have to deal with this? Why does he, Jacob Park, of all the people out there, have to deal with this sort of thing? How do you  _ even deal  _ with this sort of thing? It always looked so easy and straightforward in the movies and books and TV shows that he’s ingested over the years, but now that’s it’s actually happening to him in real life, Jake has absolutely no fucking clue on how to get through this. He doubts Simon does, either. He looks at his roommate, the only person here  _ (or in the whole world) _ besides Edward that he considered a friend, and thinks that Simon is so much stronger than him, able to go through everything he’s been through and still be in relatively one piece.

Jake wishes he could be mentally strong like that instead of just shoving all of his problems and everything to the side in a  _ Do Not Disturb  _ pile that he never plans on working through. But he has to be strong now, because Simon is right- the longer he puts off listening to the horrible stuff he knows he’s about to hear, the less information he’s going to have in case the thing comes back for him.

Grabbing the bowl and spoon in both hands, Jake lifts the bowl up and brings it to his lips to slurp down the remnants of the cereal and milk. He can feel Simon’s eyes on him, watching him put off hearing what he has to say, and suddenly Jake just can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand Simon waiting for him to say that he's ready to listen to him give him the sordid details. He’s got to get it over with.

“Okay.” Jake relents, putting the bowl down and sliding it far, far away from him, swiveling to Simon and giving him his full attention. “Go for it: I’m ready.”

Simon inhales, and Jake feels the most anxiety he’s ever felt in his life surge through his system like he’d just mainlined crack cocaine.


	17. Twaddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imma be real this is kinda filler, but the first half of the chapter is from Simon's POV so there's that. Also lyedham helped.
> 
> ~~Sorry for the delay! For those of you who haven't found my questionable-super secret twitter, my mama passed away on June 5th and it took me a while to even feel like writing again. I took such a long break that I forgot where I had left off, so I wrote this icing filler.
> 
> Next chapter I promise you will see Jake's conspiracy theory side come out. Until then, stay lit my fwiendos and wear a mask until you start getting CO2 poisoning in that case take it off for a few minutes to breathe you fucking simp~~

He’s different, he can tell.

Despite knowing he’s changed, he can’t really point to one thing that’s different above all others. It was a bunch of little differences that Simon was starting to notice, and they were quickly becoming more and more apparent. His stuttering is not as bad as it was, his emotions feel different-  _ more raw _ , like a bandaid had just been ripped off an unclosed wound. The cruel irony of constant anxiety and worrying paired with flatlining emotions seemed to be gone, or at least only existing because of the withdrawal he’s going through. It’s given him the ability to truly  _ think  _ for the first time in a while.   


Simon doesn’t know if he’s changed because he’s off his meds or because he was possessed. He hopes it’s the latter, because if it was the former, then he hopes that no one has to suffer what he went through, because they will  _ not  _ be the same person afterwards.   
  
Looking at Jake fills Simon with so many emotions that he either hasn’t experienced in a long time or hasn’t experienced at all and can’t put a name to. Guilt is easily identified and painful; guilt over hurting his friend and allowing for this mess to happen in the first place.  
  
Regret, shame, and failure sting deep in his chest and threaten to take him under but… if he went under, then Jake would never know.  _ Under where?  _ He doesn’t know where the thought came from, but he shakes it from his head as Jake slides the bowl away from him and gives him his full attention.   
  
Simon’s done so much damage to Jake, damage he’s never wanted to inflict upon anybody, and this is his chance to repair some of that damage.   
  
“Well…” He starts, unsure for a moment where to start and memories not easily pulled forward in his mind’s eye, but he decides that starting at the beginning would be the best bet even if he sounded like a broken record, and so he does.

“That- the night I went to the park, to the lake to kill myself-” Simon had to fight back a shameful wince. “-I had j-just gotten ankle deep in the water when these long, dark spider-like limbs curled around my legs and pulled me under. I tried to get away, but it was so strong. Inhumanely strong. Beyond animal strong, it-” Simon waved his hands in front of him, searching for a comparison for the strength of the thing that had pulled him under, but Simon couldn’t think of one so he carried on with his retelling.   
  
“I couldn’t really see too well, but-but more of those spidery limbs curled around me and pulled me into… something, I’m not sure what it was. Maybe its center?” Simon asked himself more than he asked Jake, eyebrows furrowing as he rummaged through his foggy memories. “I’m not sure, but I know that she-”   
  
“She?” Jake asked. Simon suddenly has a dim recollection of telling Jake that the thing wanted to be referred to as a “she” when he asked what to call it. It seemed so trivial yet so pertinent at the same time.   
  
Nodding in agreement, Simon continued. “I asked what to call it, and it just said  _ “she”.  _ But, uh, it pulled me inside of itself and… after that I...I was possessed. And I’m not just saying it because everyone else is saying it, I’m saying it be-because that’s what it  _ felt  _ like. All of a sudden her thoughts were in my head, suppressing my own. I didn’t really have my  _ own  _ thoughts anymore, in a way. Or, I mean I did, but they were really subdued and I could only think  _ when  _ she let me think. I remember there were a few times I tried to say something to you, tried- tried to tell you something was wrong, but she just took over. Stopped me and forced me to do something different.”

As he was speaking, Simon watched Jake. His face was both surprisingly and unsurprisingly neutral- surprising because Simon thought Jake would have more of a reaction to what he was telling him, and unsurprising because he  _ knew  _ Jake, and Jake was the type of guy to usually keep his emotions in check and wore an expression of aloofness. Whether Jake was always aloof or not Simon didn’t know for sure, but while Jake was good at having a carefree expression, sometimes his eyes betrayed him with how he was  _ truly  _ feeling.   
  
And right now, Jake’s eyes shone with an intense emotion that Simon had seen before when someone would bother Jake and keep pressing him to do something  _ fun _ like come to a party- anger. But Simon had never seen it this raw and fierce in his friend’s gray eyes before, and it startled him a little. Almost enough to stop talking altogether just in case Jake was angry  _ at  _ him: he wouldn’t blame him if he was.   
  
But Jake didn’t say anything during his pause, just started at him and Simon knew his friend was waiting for him to continue onwards. With a heavy sigh, he resumed speaking. “I barely remember coming out of the water, and I don’t remember how I got back to the dorm. The next thing I even vaguely remember is you asking me where I had been all night, and- and I really don’t know where I went!” In a way, it was humorous to Simon. Usually, he was  _ so  _ paranoid when he went outside about being robbed, jumped, or shot, but he wouldn’t be stunned to find out that after he was possessed he roamed the New Haven streets for hours without a care in the world.   
  
“When did you…” Jake waved his arms around in his lap. “...when did she, I mean, tell you that I was her target?”

“Oh- oh, I skipped that part.” Simon could’ve whacked himself upside his head for forgetting such an important thing, but he felt too ill to put any effort into doing so. Even talking was starting to bring a bad taste rising up out of his throat. “It was almost like she  _ injected  _ that idea into my brain. It was all I could think about. I’m being serious.” He supplemented at the way he saw Jake’s eyebrows pitch together.   
  
“For weeks, she kept telling me over and over in my head that I needed to collect you two, and do what she wanted me to do to get you two ready for… “collection”, I guess.” Simon lifted his hands just enough from underneath his blanket to do air quotes at the word  _ collection.  _ “And J-Jake, I’m being truthful when I say it was all I could think about. When you guys took me to the hospital, she kept yelling at me in my head to get you two, to take us back to the dorm so she could get you guys, but…”    
  
This was the hardest part for Simon to think about. Not getting taken over in the first place, not lying to Jake about the money he gave him to buy a gun with, not plotting to kill Cameron with it, but the fact that in the end, he had enough control over himself to  _ stop.  _ To not do what she was urging him to really do- switch targets from Cameron to Edward. In his mind, Simon having control over himself in the end told him that he could’ve taken back control earlier and might’ve avoided this whole situation altogether. And he hated himself for not being in control, despised himself for being weak and the OCD part of him is  _ terrified  _ that he’ll lose control again at any moment.   
  
“...when she realized that I was fighting her back- and I  _ swear,  _ Jake, the whole time she was inside of me I was fighting back-” Simon pleaded with Jake with wide, sad eyes to show just how  _ much  _ he truly meant that statement. “-she wanted me to switch targets.”

“Switch targets?” Jake asked, shifting slightly in his seat. “You mean Cameron?”   
  
Simon shook his head. “She wanted me to kill Cameron to...to-to, I don’t know, uh, for her to collect you? I’m sorry, I don’t know how to explain it, really. But when she realized that I wasn’t going to be able to kill Cameron, she wanted me to kill your brother.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “Edward?” He hadn’t been expecting that revelation, and certainly didn’t expect for Edward to  _ actually  _ have a role in all of this.  _ Wait until he hears about this, he’ll shit his Gucci pants.  _ “Why? Why- why switch? Why even  _ need  _ to kill anyone in the first place?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I’m sorry but-” A shiver raised the hairs along Simon’s arms, and a chill took ahold of him. A cold sweat broke out into his forehead and suddenly Simon was regretting eating those goldfish again. Hopefully, his nausea would remain on the back burner until he had finished talking to Jake. He could tell by the way that Jake’s gray eyes had darken that he was getting angry again, and Simon couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for his dark-haired friend: if something demonic had been trying to kill Greta, he would be very angry, too.   
  
“The- the whole time she was just…  _ screaming  _ at me to get you two for her. I vaguely remember screaming stuff along those lines at the doctors and nurses in the hospital and watching their faces morph into fear. It-  _ she  _ felt so…  _ happy  _ seeing them so afraid, even when I could feel her leaving.” The feeling of black bile pouring out from in between his lips, burning his flesh with acid and something otherworldly still bothers him. Sometimes when he first takes up or when he’s about to drift off to sleep, he’ll inhale and suddenly he has that feeling again, the feeling of leaking black ichor from his throat and has to fight off a panic attack.   
  
Just  _ thinking  _ about it makes Simon’s already delicate levels of anxiety starts to spike, so he focuses on staring straight at Jake again and watches his friend looking down at the floor between his feet and twiddling his thumbs. Looking at Jake’s eyes is a challenge since they are squinted and out of sight behind his long hair  _ (he really needs a haircut, Simon muses) _ , but they’re less angry now and more… confused. Or he’s just processing everything that’s going on and it’s making him look confused. Some people do that, too.   
  
Simon had opened his mouth to yawn when Jake spoke first. “Why us?” He asks. At first, Simon thinks he’s talking to himself or asking a rhetorical question, but when Jake repeats himself louder Simon realizes that he wants a response. Unfortunately, Simon doesn’t have one.   
  
“I don’t know.” Simon winces as the words leave his mouth, starting to feel like a broken record. “All I-I know is that she wanted me to collect you two _ \-  _ like for her collection, I guess. I don’t even know what her collection is about! But...”    
  
But maybe he does. A dim, almost debatable real memory pops into the front of his mind, murky and dark, but he latches onto it until he can pick out some details.    
  
“Why didn’t it want anybody else?” Jake asks, and this time Simon is pretty convinced that Jake is talking to herself this time but uses the opportunity to respond.   
  
“Maybe it does. I think. I’m not sure, I-”  _ Now is not the time to be rambling and stuttering, Simon!  _ “-okay.” Simon stops, sits up straight and blinks back the siren call of sleep from his eyes. “I don’t know if this happened or I imagined it, but there were others that she wanted.”   
  
Simon witnesses Jake blink owlishly and jerk backwards. “Who?” His friend asks,  _ just like an owl,  _ he thinks. He has to bite back a laugh.   
  
“I’ve never seen them before. But she, like, showed me- or maybe didn’t mean to show me but I saw it anyways- of people at a campfire in a really dark place. I can’t see faces but in a- in a way,  _ I know  _ you and Dwight are there. Then a lot of them just disappear and a few are left, and then I can see their faces clearly. It’s you two and two other girls.”   
  
“Who were the girls?” Jake interjected. 

Simon wrings his hands together under his blanket, feeling frighteningly cold in the warm dorm room. “I don’t know, but if I ever,  _ ever  _ see them I’ll instantly recognize them. But the thing that just… is so  _ bad  _ is that you all were covered in all sorts of blood and dirt and gore and grime-” Simon yawns again, and this time it draws his eyes to a close and he has to force them open.

Opening his mouth to speak again takes time, and by the time Simon finds words to say, Jake is standing up and touching his arm with a feather light touch. “If you’re really sleepy, you should go to bed.” Simon tries to shake the sleep out of his brain, but it only makes his head droop with fatigue. He knows Jake is right and that if he doesn’t get up now he’ll pass out in the living room, so he gives up his personal mission of talking about his memories and lets Jake lead him back to bed.   
  
“You were in- wearing different clothes.” Simon mutters sleepily as Jake pushes the door open to his room. His bed looks  _ so  _ warm and inviting and Simon has to fight to keep his knees from buckling. “At that campfire. Dwight not so much, but you…” Simon laughed softly as he lowered himself to the bed. “You were in this God awful hiking outfit. It was so ugly I- I actually  _ gagged  _ at it.” A short giggle that sounded almost insane passed through his lips without realizing he had done so, and Simon could feel his consciousness wavering. Sleep was quickly blacking out his vision, but Simon still had one last thing to tell Jake.   
  
“Sorry for passin’ out.” He apologized, cracking open a single eye to fuzzily make out his friend wrapping him up. “I’ll talk more when I wake up.”   
  
“It’s fine-” He hears Jake respond, but anything else he says is a muddled mess and Simon drifts off to sleep.   


///

  
Jake’s a little surprised that Simon falls asleep before he finishes talking to him, much less before he can leave the room, but he’s not going to shake Simon awake so he could finish what he was saying. A sleeping Simon is a healing Simon, so Jake tiptoes out the bedroom door, not even taking the risk to shut the door, and slinks into the kitchen to make himself some lunch.   
  
For a moment, Jake really has a hankering for some riceroni and makes a move to grab a pot in the cabinets, but when he sees a couple of pots on top of the one he wants, he decides to play it safe.   
  
Abandoning his plans for riceroni, Jake instead heads for the loaf of bread hidden a few cabinets over to make himself a PB&J sandwich. Unless he can somehow stab himself with a butter knife and scream in pain, he is confident he can make the sandwich without waking Simon up. In fact, he’s so paranoid that he’ll wake Simon up that he foregos opening a bag of chips so the noise of him shaking them out can’t wake him up.   
  
Jake is just a couple of bites and searching for his next place to munch on when his phone vibrates in his pocket, the ringtone soft at first but growing in volume. Jake drops his sandwich down on his plate and hastily sucks a small dollop of peanut butter off his finger before he shoves his slightly wet hand into his pockets and yanks out his phone.

The caller ID tells him that it’s his brother calling, and Jake can’t resist the urge to roll his eyes before he presses the answer button. “Hello?” He asks, quieter than his normal voice.

_ “Hey, you doing alright?”  _ The slight concern in his brother’s voice throws him off a bit, his eyebrows scrunching up on his forehead. “Yeah…” Jake starts, trailing off into a suspicious “Why?”

_ “What, can’t I check up on my younger brother and ask if he’s doing alright? And why are you whispering?” _

“I’m not whispering- Simon is asleep.” Suddenly, Jake knows why Edward is so concerned: Simon. “And  _ no _ , he hasn’t done anything weird. Or tried to kill me, so you can fucking  _ relax- _ ”

_ “Don’t get sassy with me, Jacob.”  _ Jake clenched his jaw so hard at the use of his first name that a muscle or something popped in his temple and triggered a mild headache. “Alright, whatever.” He muttered, picking up his sandwich with his free hand and biting a nibble out of it.    
  
Some of the peanut butter sticks to the roof of his mouth, and Jake is so focused on trying to scrape it off with the tip of his tongue that he doesn’t realize the gross noises he’s making can be heard by his brother on the other end of the phone.

“ _ Jake, what in the  _ ** _hell _ ** _ are you doing? Whatever it is, it sounds disgusting. You’re not mastu-” _

He already knew what the end of that sentence was going to be, so Jake quickly swallowed and cleared his throat to cut him off. “No, I’m not jacking off, Ed. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

_ “Don’t be so crass, brother.” _

“You make me this way.” Scowling, Jake looked at his sandwich, now half-eaten, and was debating on where to bite into it next when his brain cells suddenly came to life. “Hey-” he started, twisting his head around just to make sure Simon wasn’t standing in the hallway like a creep behind him. “Where’s all of Simon’s stuff that we had?”

Jake didn’t hear Edward speak for a moment.  _ “Jake, I’m… out in public. I can’t say those things out loud.” _

“Well, I’ll say it for you, then: do you have the books? Simon’s old meds, the gun- where did you send off that piece of carpet to?”

_ “I have all of those  _ ** _things_ ** _ hidden in my apartment. The carpet I sent off to a lab in Atlanta, Georgia. I have an acquaintance in a testing lab- like you would see in one of those crime labs on TV. He said I should have the results of what Simon was throwing up around the end of this week or the beginning of the next.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Humming in acknowledgement, Jake couldn’t help but feel glad that Edward had the gun. For one, it was away from Simon so if Simon decided to go nuts again, that would mean that his friend would have to go all the way to his brother’s house to get it. And despite Edward being 6’4 and a stick, he was actually decent with a firearm... although he  _ did  _ almost knock himself out the first time he shot a pistol.    
  
Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at that memory. “Hey, have you read the books?” He asks, his mind suddenly curious if his brother would read the books that, if he remembered correctly, sounded pretty outlandish to him.

He heard his brother scoff on the other end of the line.  _ “I actually have read a little bit of all of them. Why?” _

“Well…” Jake began. “...can I look at them? I mean, honestly, when you think about it, Simon did  _ stuff  _ while he was wacked out for a  _ reason,  _ y’know? I want to see what’s in those books.”

_ “There’s really nothing in them except conspiracy theories, but…”  _ Jake had an image in his mind: Edward sitting down in this quaint little upscale coffee shop that he went to at least every other day, rolling his eyes constantly while pressing his phone hard enough against his ear to leave a mark when he pulls away to sigh and gather his things.  _ “...I can run by my apartment real quick and bring them to you if I leave now. I need to get going to my next class, anyways.”  _ The last part was said much more loosely than the previous statement, and Jake got the feeling that it was his brother’s way of being nice and doing things for him.

No wonder he’s never had a date. “Fine.” He sounds irritated, but he’s smiling on the other end of the line, a slanted smile that all little brother’s wear when they get their older brother to take time out of their very busy and important day just for them. “See you soon. Thanks.”

“ _ You’re welcome. Don’t mention it-  _ ** _don’t.” _ ** And the line cut off before Jake could even finish rolling his eyes.  _ Rude bastard.  _

Turning off his phone, Jake turned his attention back to his sandwich and picked it back up and took a large bite out of it. Too large, as a loose crumb of bread hit his uvula and caused him to cough with a large bite of a PB&J sandwich in his mouth, nearly making him choke. He thought for a moment that he would actually have to spit it back out on his plate, which would’ve been gross and ruined his appetite.   
  
By the time he’s recovered, finished the rest of his sandwich without further incident and put the plate and the knife he used to smear the bread with in the sink, his phone pings with a notification that Jake already knows is his brother before he reads it.

_ Im here open the door.  _ Jake frowns, eyebrows creasing as he texts a quick message back  _ why dont u just ring the doorbell dumbass _

_ I dont want to wake up simon open the fuckign door dipshit _ . Well, Jake shrugs his shoulder, fair enough. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Jake makes sure he isn’t being too loud as he walks to the front door and takes off the chain, unlocking the bottom part and peeling it open halfways to see Edward holding a plastic bag from Lidl and holding it out to him.

“Here.” His brother announces, and Jake scoffs at the way Edward looks both ways down the hallway and behind him into the dorm room. “I would stay and chit-chat but my Management classes start in six minutes.”   
  
“Thanks for bringing these.” Jake opens the bag he was given, which was double-tied, and peeks in to see the cover of the books he saw a few nights ago on Simon’s desk. Jake stumbles back in shock when Edward gives his shoulder a light push back towards his dorm room.

“You better not let anyone see you reading those.” Edward shifted his satchel on his shoulder. “They’re  _ very  _ dystopian and fringe works. You might want to make yourself a tinfoil hat before you read them. People might think you’ve become one of those people who think Bush did 9/11 or a doomsday prepper.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but did close the bag and grabbed the door with the hand that wasn’t holding the bag. “Yeah, ‘cause  _ God forbid _ we look like anything less than perfect young rich men. Go to class, dingus.” Stepping backwards into his room, Jake gets the response of  _ “You think I’m joking.”  _ before the door shuts and the sound of his brother swiftly walking away down the hall.   
  
Relocking the door, the feeling of anticipation washes over Jake like a warm shower and he finds his fingers itching to lay the bag of books down on the counter and crack into the first one he picks up. He has to force himself to lower his expectations of what he may find in there, but he couldn’t help but have the feeling that he may actually find something useful and informative within the pages of the books that look like they haven’t been checked out of a library in many years.

_ Time for disappointment. _


End file.
